Maggie Shayne - Badland's Bad Boy Page 9

  "So what is this," she asked, "you tired of driving?"

  "I drove yours, so you get to drive mine." He smiled up at her, hiding the doubts that kept creeping in. "Besides, I want to make sure you know the way … so you can come back."

  She smiled back at him and headed around to the driver's side. When she got in, she adjusted his seat, fiddled with his mirrors and twisted the radio dial though it wasn't even turned on yet. He was, though. "There," she said. "Now we're even." And she cranked the engine to life.

  Wes gave directions for the shortest route to the ranch, and she drove, smiling in pleasure when the Bronco bounced beneath the arch and into the driveway. She nodded in pleasure. "What a place," she said. "Just as impressive as the first time I saw it."

  "You like it better than the other one?" Why was he suddenly so sensitive about everything she said?

  "Not by a long shot, but this is nice, too."

  He almost sighed in relief. She brought the car to a stop behind Garrett's gargantuan pickup truck, and looked at Wes a little nervously.

  Wes jumped out and hurried around to her side, opening her door. "Come on," he said. "If you meet my horse before my family, they'll feel slighted."

  "Wouldn't want that." She took the hand he offered and got to her feet, and then she paused, looking down at their joined hands, blinking as if she was seeing something she'd never seen before. Then she met his eyes and he knew. It wasn't something she'd never seen, but something she'd never felt. He was feeling it, too. He'd have laughed in the face of anyone who told him love at first sight could happen to him, but he was beginning to think this thing with Taylor was damned close to that.

  The screen door creaked, then it banged. "Wes? Hey, I didn't know you were coming home for lunch. And you brought company!" Chelsea smiled and wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing. "You're in luck," she said, smiling her killer smile at Taylor. "It was my turn to cook."

  "Is that a slam on the Brand men's culinary talents?" Wes asked. Then he glanced down at Taylor. "Don't let her fool you with that housemother getup she's wearing. Chelsea's a lot more than chief cook and bottle washer around here. Even if she hasn't acquired a respectable Texas drawl just yet." He sent Chelsea a wink.

  She came down the steps and extended a hand. "I'm Chelsea Brand," she said. "You must be Taylor. I've heard a lot about you."

  Taylor shook her hand. "I can't imagine how."

  "Oh, I get around. Actually I'm studying for a psychology degree over at the university. The professors there have been bandying your name about campus since you started on the Emerald Flat dig. You have a terrific reputation."

  "That's good to know," Taylor said, and Wes saw her chin lift just a little. She was proud of that reputation, and she should be.

  The door banged again, and little Bubba toddled onto the steps, reached for his mother, teetered. Wes lunged quickly and scooped the pudge up before he could take a tumble. "Hey, Bubba! How's my best buddy doin'?" He tickled Bubba's ribs, and got a squeal out of him.

  "Eat," Bubba said.

  "You always wanna eat," Wes returned.

  Chelsea shook her head. "Taylor, meet my little boy, Ethan. Though the men in this house refuse to call him by his proper name."

  "Hello, Ethan." Taylor came closer and stuck out her hand. Bubba shook it, apparently quite pleased at being treated like a grown-up.

  "Who?" he said.

  "Taylor," she told him. "Tay-lor. Can you say 'Taylor'?"

  He grinned at her. "Tay-lo!" he said. Then he turned very seriously to his uncle, his little brows furrowed as he lowered his forehead to Wes's and stared him square in the eyes.

  "He likes her," Chelsea said.

  "Me, too," Wes replied. Then wished he hadn't, because Chelsea, when he glanced her way again, was grinning as if she'd just won the lottery. Lord help him now.

  "Well, come on inside and let's feed this starving toddler before he wastes away," she sang, and she slipped an arm through Taylor's and walked her up the steps and into the house as if she were a long-lost sister.

  By the time Wes carried Bubba inside, Taylor was being ushered into a chair at the kitchen table, and Chelsea was sending silent messages to Garrett with her eyes. Wes's brothers were already sitting, and it looked as if they were all picking up on Chelsea's unspoken announcement that Wes had finally found a woman he liked.

  They rose as Taylor sat. Two giant maples and a whipcord sapling, all inspecting the poor woman as if she were a cow they were considering buying. All smiling and nodding at one another as if they'd decided she'd be good for the herd.

  Wes tucked Bubba into his high chair and performed the introductions. "You've already met Garrett," he said to Taylor, pointing.

  "Chelsea's husband, right?" Taylor smiled. "Good to see you again."

  "Pleasure's all mine, Taylor," he said, and they all sat down.

  "The big blonde in need of a good barber is my brother Ben," Wes said, "and the puny one there is Elliot, runt of the litter."

  "Thanks a lot, big brother," Elliot said. But he sent Taylor a grin.

  Wes took the only seat they'd left him, the one next to Taylor, and Garrett started passing dishes around. Taylor said, "This isn't everyone, is it? I remember I met a sister … Jessi, wasn't it?"

  "Yeah. Jessi lives in town with her husband, Lash, and their new baby girl," Chelsea filled in. "She's a veterinarian."

  "Right, I think I drove past her clinic one day. Her husband is your deputy, right, Garrett?"

  "He is when I can get him to give up daddy duty long enough to be. Right now he's more into changing diapers than keeping the peace. Fortunately we don't have a lot of crime around here."

  Chelsea nodded hard. "Quinn, Texas, is the best place in the world to raise a family."

  Wes sent her a scowl. Gee, next she'd be ordering invitations. "I have another brother," he said. "Adam works for a bank in New York City."

  "I'll never keep everyone straight." Taylor smiled and helped herself to a scoop of mashed-potato pie.

  "Sure, you will," Chelsea said. "But we're talking too much about us. We're all dying to hear more about you. Where are you from, Taylor?"

  "I grew up in Indiana," she said. "But now I don't really call any one place home. My work takes me all over."

  Chelsea frowned. "As highly as they speak of you at the university, I figured you must have tenure somewhere."

  Taylor shook her head. "I haven't wanted tenure. Been waiting to find the perfect place first."

  Chelsea smiled and glanced at Wes knowingly.

  "And how is the dig going?" Garrett asked. "Any more trouble from your ghostly visitor?"

  Taylor's eyes met Wes's. "Not really," she said. And he knew she didn't want to talk about Wolf Shadow with his family right now. He couldn't say he blamed her.

  "I'm watching things," Wes said, to save her from having to say any more. "I don't think he's gonna bother Taylor again." Truth was, he meant it. His Wolf Shadow days were over.

  After lunch Wes managed to extract Taylor from the grip of his family—though they seemed reluctant to let her go. He walked with her out past the stable to where the horses grazed in the back pasture, and she leaned on the gate beside him when he whistled to Paint.

  The stallion galloped toward them, slowing to a high-stepping trot as he approached, shaking his mane. The show-off.

  Taylor reached up to stroke his neck. "Look at him," she said. "Wes, he's fabulous."

  "I know." The horse blew and stomped when Taylor stopped petting him, fussing until she started up again. That made her laugh, a sound like ice and crystal. Wes swallowed hard. "I have an idea, if you want to hear it."

  "I think I know what it is already," she said. "But tell me anyway."

  Wes turned to lean his back against the gate, scuffing the dust with the heel of his boot. "Well, you said you were boarding your mare someplace. I was thinking, once I get that barn in shape, you might want to have her trucked out here. I'd keep her for you for n
othing."

  "And breed her to Paint, here," she said, nodding. "But not for nothing, Wes. I couldn't do that."

  "Sure you could. I—"

  "No." She turned, too, leaning back against the gate just as he was. Paint leaned his head over and nuzzled her hair. Smart horse. "I'd have to pay you." She laughed at the horse's attention and reached up to rub his face. "I'd give you the foal."

  Wes straightened and pushed his Stetson back farther on his head. "I couldn't take your colt, Doc."

  "Sure, you could. Heck, Wes, I can't care for one horse, let alone two. What would I do with it?"

  He drew a breath and sighed. Taylor straightened up and thrust her hand out. "So do we have a deal, or what?"

  He looked down at the toes of his boots, looked up at her again. "Okay. Deal," he said. And he clasped her hand in his. But instead of shaking, he drew her slowly forward, and pressed his mouth to hers. Light and gentle. Long and lingering. But careful.

  When she lifted her head, she looked as bewildered and enchanted as he felt. Lord, but he was sinking fast with this woman.

  "You know what I like about you?" she asked softly.

  Wes shook his head. "I can't even imagine."

  She smiled a little. "You're gentle," she told him. "You kiss me like you're afraid I might break. And you're real."

  "Real?"

  "Straightforward," she said. "No games or acts. Just … honest. That means everything to me, you know. Honesty."

  Wes swallowed hard and tried to still the panic in his belly. She was sincere, meant what she was saying. But in her eyes he thought he saw more. Anticipation. Eagerness. She wanted to explore the feelings flowing like a deep river between them as badly as he did. Wanted to know just how deep that water was, and what lay at the bottom … and where that river was going to take them.

  Wes just hoped there wasn't white water waiting around the bend.

  There wasn't, of course. It was more like Niagara Falls.

  Wes was a special man. It didn't take much to see that. He was gentle. He was sweet and kind and so, so very gentle. She'd seen him with his little nephew. The careful, expert way he'd held the chubby toddler as if it were something he'd been doing for a long time. And when little Ethan looked up at his uncle, there was adoration in his eyes.

  She liked everything about him. Everything. His family. Their teasing did nothing to conceal the love that lay underneath. It was something she'd never had, that closeness.

  That afternoon she rejoined her group, and they wrapped up work on the quadrants where they'd been digging, and set up guidelines for the next. Small squares, roped off with light string. Wes had said he had to leave for a while. Didn't say where he'd gone. Didn't say what he was doing. It didn't matter.

  Good God, was she saying that she trusted him? It was amazing to her that she could know a man for so short a time and trust him even slightly. She'd vowed never to put herself on the line like this for any man—or for anyone at all. Was she beginning to trust Wes? And was she putting herself at risk as she'd sworn she would never do by letting herself?

  As the day wore on into late afternoon, with Taylor crouching in the square she'd assigned herself, sifting earth through a screened tray, breaking clumps of soil with her fingers and tossing pebbles aside, her fingers closed on something hard. Frowning, she grasped it carefully, setting the tray aside and reaching for her small brush, and methodically she began brushing the dirt away. Slowly a medallion emerged. An uneven oval of metal … gold, she thought, pounded flat. Symbols and designs had been carved into the gold all around. And in the center an almond-shaped, smooth piece of turquoise, with a perfect black circle painted in its center. Like an eye, set in gold. With a small black pupil. There were holes bored into either end of the oval, and she suspected a thong had been threaded through each end, to hold the eye around its owner's neck.

  It was beautiful. And her first thought was that she couldn't wait to show it to Wes.

  That made her pause and blink in surprise as her fingers caressed the smooth turquoise. Usually her first thought would be radiocarbon testing of the metal to determine its age, or perhaps what the stone had signified. Now it was of Wes. Lord, the way he'd crept into her thoughts was incredible. And frightening. And maybe … maybe right.

  And at the same time, completely without her permission, an image flew into her mind. Of Wolf Shadow, sitting tall on his magnificent horse, this pendant gleaming on his naked, muscled chest. His eyes boring into hers and glazed with desire. His hands on her body. His mouth…

  "Dammit, what's wrong with me?" She ordered the image away, but not before she'd felt the effects of it. Her body heated and her belly clenched. How could she be feeling so much—for the first time in her life—for one man, and still be so powerfully hungry for the touch of another? How could she care emotionally, as well as physically for Wes, and want to make wild love to someone else? It made no sense. Wes and that other man were total opposites. Wes was so tender, so sensitive. Wolf Shadow was wild and untamed, and dangerous.

  "Where's Mr. Brand?" Scourge's voice interrupted her confusing, faithless thoughts. Guiltily she closed her hand around the pendant, dropping it into the deep pocket of her khaki trousers before turning to face him. Kelly stood by his side, shifting from one foot to the other a little nervously.

  "He had some things to do," she said. "He'll be back later on. Why, is something wrong?" The two certainly looked as if there was. Kelly chewed her lower lip, and Scourge couldn't quite meet her eyes.

  "Well, come on, speak up. What is it?"

  Kelly drew a breath, looked at Scourge and sighed. "We went into town today, to pick up some bottled water. We were running low."

  "And?"

  "Well, we mentioned to the man in the store that Wes Brand was up here helping us out. And the guy just started talking."

  Scourge cleared his throat. "It isn't like we were asking about him or anything, the guy just … he just talked. You know how older people like to talk."

  Taylor frowned, waiting for them to go on.

  "Ms. McCoy, you aren't like getting involved with this guy, are you?"

  "Kelly, I really don't think that's an appropriate question." Taylor averted her eyes. "Just what did this fellow in town say to get you two so stirred up?"

  Scourge lowered his head. "He said Wes was the black sheep of his family. That he'd done time in prison for robbing a bar and beating the owner half to death."

  Taylor sucked in a fast, loud breath. Closed her eyes. It wasn't true. Not Wes. Not the gentle man she'd been getting so close to. "You shouldn't listen to gossip." But she turned away.

  "He also said Wes killed a man a little over a year ago. With a knife."

  "It's ridiculous!" She faced them again, getting angry now. "Don't you think he'd be in jail if any of this were true?"

  "Maybe not … his brother being the sheriff."

  "Oh, for the love of—"

  "He does carry a knife. A big one, tucked in his boot. You must've noticed it," Scourge said slowly, not meeting her eyes.

  She'd noticed it. But that didn't mean… "I don't want to hear any more slander about Wes Brand. I can't believe you two listening to small-town gossip and swallowing it whole like this. You're old enough to know better."

  "But, Ms. McCoy, the man wasn't slandering Wes. He was … it was like he was praising him or something. Said if he ever had trouble he'd want Wes on his side and—"

  "And that alone should tell you his story is nothing but garbage. Kelly, Wes Brand came here to protect us, for heaven's sake! He put his own responsibilities aside to spend time here, just to be sure we'd all be safe. He…" She pushed one hand through her hair and shook her head. "Look, that's enough. I'm not going to discuss this anymore. Gather up what you've got and get busy cataloging it. We'll stop in an hour for something to eat, okay?"

  Scourge shook his head and made a disgusted sound in his throat as he turned and stomped away. Kelly started to go, too, then turned back. "
It's just that we're concerned about you, Ms. McCoy. We didn't mean to upset you. I mean … we've never seen you look at a man the way you look at Wes. And if he's bad news … well, we just thought you ought to know."

  Taylor looked at the innocence in Kelly's blue eyes, and her anger cooled to a simmer. "I'm glad you're looking out for me," she said. "But that's my job, remember? I'm a grown-up. I've been doing it for a while now."

  "Okay. But … be careful."

  She nodded. When Kelly left, Taylor brushed off her hands and headed for the solitude of her own tent. And then she sat down on her sleeping bag, grated her teeth and prayed that Wes didn't have some secret side he'd been hiding from her. She'd begun to let herself think that maybe he was the man she was meant to find. But what if she hadn't seen the man he really was?

  And if she had to ask him directly, and it turned out to be true, how could she trust him to be honest with her about anything else? How would she know when he wasn't lying, but simply hiding the truth?

  And if she asked him about this and it turned out to be a pile of lies … would he forgive her for being so suspicious?

  She gnawed on her lower lip. How could she handle this? How?

  "It's over, Turtle. She's not leaving the site, and this Wolf Shadow nonsense isn't going to convince her to. I can't do it to her. Not anymore."

  Turtle sat outside tonight. Wes had encouraged him to get up off the ratty plaid couch and come out under the stars to sit beside a fire as they'd made a habit of doing for the past year. The fire Wes built snapped and danced, and Turtle sat on his favorite lawn chair with a woven blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He sipped tea again tonight. And Wes was still very worried about him.

  "Why, my friend?" he asked, then he closed his eyes, and the firelight painted his papery lids. "No, don't tell me. I'm still a shaman. I can see."

  Wes frowned and sat still in the other seat, an old metal folding chair that had seen better days. He took another sip of his beer and waited.

  "You care for her," Turtle said.

  Wes choked on the beer.

  Turtle's eyes came open, and he smiled slightly. "It is good," he said.