Eleven Read online

  For that reason, my heart felt safe around him. I wasn’t accustomed to that feeling. It scared me. I had to remind myself to let go of the insecurities of my own past. Something inside me knew he was worth the risk.

  The look in his eyes also told me he knew what to do with a woman if given the chance. This wasn’t his first rodeo. I, however, felt as if I were about to be thrown into the bull ring for the first time.

  I remembered the advice of one of my sisters from long ago when I was at my first dance in Shamrock, Texas. As I stood nervous and tense by the dance floor, a cowboy approached me and asked me to dance.

  Initially, I had refused. But my sister pushed me into his arms and said, “Just get out there and act like you know what you’re doin’!”

  That’s some of the best advice I have ever been given and it was about to become useful in my life, yet again. As I looked the bull straight into the eyes, I prayed the protective vest to shield my heart was well intact!

  He placed his right arm on the console. I wasted no time in sliding my arm around his. I took his hand and turned the palm up and began tracing the lines with my long fingernail, beginning with the head line. Then I followed by slowly tracing the half circle of his life line and the straight lines of heart and fate.

  He shifted in his seat, looking somewhat uncomfortable. He pulled his hand away and took a quick turn off the highway onto the first turn-row we came to. He sped down the dirt road for a short distance, then slammed on his breaks and put the truck in park as we came to a sliding stop.

  Then he reached over and pulled me over the console into his lap, spilling the tulips into the floorboard. He began smothering my face with urgent kisses as he pulled me closer to him, our chests tightly pressed against each other as his strong arms firmly held me.

  When our lips finally parted and we came up for air, he said in frustration, “Damn it, what are you doing to me?”

  I was a bit worried until a huge smile stretched across his face.

  “You only touched the palm of my hand and it damn near drove me crazy. I think you and I may have a hard time making it to anywhere on time or getting anything done,” he exclaimed.

  I felt as though I had just grabbed the bull by the horns. Apparently, I had a pretty powerful grip over him, as well!

  I slid back over to my side of the truck, retrieved my tulips from the floorboard and said, “Put it in drive, Mister. Let’s get our asses to the ranch!”

  He put the truck in drive, spun the tires in a half-donut, and we were off—again.

  Chapter 12

  Cowboy Up

  We reached the ranch around noon. About thirty minutes prior to our arrival, he had pointed out the East border of the ranch which was demarcated by the corner of a mesquite posted barbed wire fence. Obviously, it was a rather large expanse of territory.

  He made a left turn and drove up to the gate; rolling his window down to enter a security code into a numerical panel embedded in the stacked Texas flagstone gateway. The huge iron gate slowly swung open. As we drove over the cattle guard, I noticed the ornate, decorative wrought iron arch above us. The same ranch brand he wore on his belt buckle was set into an oval in the middle of the archway.

  In the distance, I could see a large house at the end of a winding trail that snaked up the highest part of the outstretched land of brush, yucca, and mesquite. Although the house was ranch style in architecture, its posh appropriations contradicted any notion of a tough life out on the range. This spot in the middle of nowhere was indeed a welcome oasis.

  The exterior of the home was made the same rough-hewn Texas flagstone that I had seen on the gateway entrance. The front porch was lined with rocking chairs and had a large cedar swing on one end that looked out onto the spread of land. Twelve thick cedar posts bolstered the length of the porch.

  As we approached our destination, the rough caliche road was soon replaced by a smooth concrete drive. The driveway curved in front of the estate and to the side where there was a large parking area bordered by cedar hitching posts. The wide concrete path meandered behind, to the back entrance of the house. We pulled into the large garage and the door closed behind us.

  He invited me to make myself at home while he unloaded the truck. I walked inside, through the mudroom where there was a mingled scent of dirt, hay, and leather. There were several pairs of boots lined up in front of benches and wooden locker stalls. There were a couple of bootjacks and several pairs of work gloves scattered along the benches. A mélange of Carhartt jackets, ropes, and hats hung along the wall.

  A large restroom on the left side of the hallway featured a triple vanity and several large hampers. It also had a large shower that was perfect for cleaning up after a long day of working cattle.

  From what I had seen so far, I had the feeling his mother must have had quite a bit to do with the design of this house. This must have been her carefully thought out attempt at making sure the rough and tumble men in her life didn’t mess up the rest of the house. She was a wise woman.

  I made my way down the hallway that opened up into the kitchen. It was complete with every modern convenience. The appliances were concealed among the maple cabinetry. Even the double refrigerator blended into the design with matching wood panels. There was a huge island in the middle of room with a solid, dark granite slab. I think the island alone may have been bigger than my entire kitchen. It had a full sink and counter-top grill, over which hung a large copper vented hood. The door to the formal dining room could be seen at the opposite end of the kitchen.

  I continued to walk through the right side of the kitchen and went around the corner of a doorway which opened up into a vast great room. The room was lofty with dark, massive timber scissor trusses supporting the vaulted pine plank ceiling. The hardwood floors matched the wood above. The opening of the fireplace was nearly six feet tall and just as wide, with a dark timber mantle adorning the Texas flagstone that was stacked all the way to the top of the room. Ornate wooden staircases with wrought-iron banisters wound around the sides and back of the fireplace, leading to the second level. The entire perimeter of the great-room was surrounded by a railed landing that led to the multiple rooms upstairs.

  Beautifully woven rugs graced the floors of the great room, which was furnished with soft leather couches and over-sized chairs. A blazing fire was roaring in the fireplace. The logs crackled and popped, lending warmth to the room. I recognized the scent of the fire. It wasn’t the familiar Texas mesquite, but rather the spicy fragrance of pinon pine that wafted through the air.

  The South wall of the room was paned glass that went from floor to ceiling. The view spanned across the rugged Texas terrain I loved so much.

  This was the kind of luxury I had only been exposed to in the pages of Texas Monthly or Southern Living magazines. Everything was orderly and the room smelled as if it had been recently cleaned. The lit fireplace suggested we were not completely alone. As I looked out the paned glass windows, I could see a row of smaller houses. It became apparent that he must have arranged for someone to prepare the place for our arrival.

  I walked over to enjoy the warmth of the fireplace. The only time I had ever seen a fireplace this big was in movies about castles and on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. I resisted the urge to pinch myself in order to remind myself that I was actually here; standing in the middle of this place—with him.

  He walked up behind me and placed his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind.

  “Since this position has gotten us into trouble before, I’ll keep it brief,” he laughed. “Let’s go for a ride.”

  He gave me another playful swat on the backside. Not that I minded, but it seemed he was developing quite an appreciation for that part of my anatomy.

  He took my hand and led me back to the mud room. Waiting there for me was a beautifully colored Pendleton Southwest blanket coat and a gorgeous brown felt Stetson hanging on two of the hooks.

  As he removed the jacket from the hook an
d held it for me to put on, he said, “I had to guess on the sizes. I hope they fit.”

  I slid my arms into the jacket and zipped it up. I reached back and pulled the band out of my hair. My ponytail fell into long loose curls as I bent over to shake it out. I threw my head back and slipped the cowboy hat in place—perfect fit!

  “Really, you shouldn’t have. You know you’re spoiling me. Thank you so much,” I was gushing again.

  This was the first time any man had ever treated me so extravagantly. I tried not to go overboard with my gratitude, but I did appreciate each and every one of his gestures. He seemed to really get a kick out of my shocked looks each time he surprised me with something. Little did he know how much I had struggled and how very much these new experiences meant to someone like me. Just within the short time I had known him, he had already made up for every crappy Valentine’s Day I had ever suffered through.

  He stood there looking like something that walked off a movie set. He was wearing different boots, better suited for riding as opposed the expensive Luccheses. His hat was different, too. It was weathered and dusty around the crown. Its brim seemed a bit wider, but the hat had the same crease as his dressier Stetson.

  As he zipped up his black Carhartt, he gave me a once-over.

  “Better than I imagined. You look good enough to eat,” his face flushed with the realization of the words that had inadvertently escaped his lips.

  I fired back, “Is that a compliment or an offer?”

  “Don’t tempt me, Sister, don’t tempt me,” he replied with a big wide grin and a wink.

  We walked out the side door of the mudroom and I could see stables about a hundred yards away. One of his ranch hands was leading two beautiful horses out of the barn. They were already saddled and ready to go.

  When he had said, “go for a ride”, I thought he was talking about taking a drive around the ranch. Awww, hell no—we were going on horseback!

  “You’ve ridden before, haven’t you?” he asked.

  “Ummm, yeah, sure. It’s been a couple of years though.”

  I lied. I had been more like fifteen years ago.

  I tried to remember the saying to reassure myself—what was that saying?

  “It’s just like riding a horse—you never forget.”

  No, wait, that’s a bike. What was it? Oh, yeah.

  “If you fall off a horse, just get right back up on it!”

  Oh, crap!

  “Dear God, don’t let me fall off this horse!” I silently thought to myself.

  Sensing my anxiety, he encouraged me, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. He’s a gentle ride. Let me help you up. Just put your foot in the stirrup and I’ll give you a boost.”

  He didn’t waste any time placing his hand on my backside to help me mount my horse.

  “Atta girl.” He said as he casually swung his leg over the saddle of his own ride. “I wanted you to see the ranch—and this is the best way to see it.”

  We spent about an hour riding and exploring the landscape. It was lovely to see him in his element. The weather was gorgeous. There was just a touch of chill to the air. It was the time of year that you never knew if it would be unseasonably warm or freezing cold. We had lucked out and got to enjoy a beautiful ride on a beautiful day.

  As we were heading back to the stables, I spotted a long clearing in the brush. I looked over at him, leaned forward, urged my ride with a “tttck, tttck” and spurred him into a full, smooth run.

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said as he galloped up behind me at the stables.

  When we arrived back at the house, lunch was ready and waiting for us.

  I turned to him in fascination, “Okay, you’re full of a few surprises yourself! Do you have a team of elves and fairies at your command or what?”

  “You might put it that way. Although, I don’t think my ranch foreman would be too happy about being called an elf,” he laughed. “I have a whole crew who stay here full time and keep things running smoothly while I’m away. They live in the houses on the South side of the ranch in the houses down by the creek.”

  We were both hungry from the travel and ride. After a quick lunch, he showed me to the master room. A large, custom made bed fashioned out of thick cedar logs was the main focus of the room. To its side, there was a sitting area in front of another large flagstone fireplace which was double sided and opened up into the master bath, as well. A roaring fire was blazing inside. My overnight bag was placed on the cedar bench at the foot of the bed.

  He gently rubbed my back and suggested, “Why don’t you go enjoy a soak in the tub. I’m going to go clean up from the ride, myself. I’ll meet you on the front porch when you get ready.”

  He turned as he was about to exit the room, pointed to the door handle and reminded me, “Here’s the lock I told you about, Sister.”

  He winked as he closed the door behind him.

  I grabbed my overnight bag, walked into the master bathroom, and came to the realization that the fairies had been at work again. The large soaking tub was already full of warm water and bubbles. It was set into a frame built from the same stone of the fireplaces and exterior of the house. On the tiled ledge, there were bouquets of lavender and sage. I couldn’t distinguish whether the lovely fragrance was coming from them or the candles. A glass of wine had been set on one corner of the bath.

  The room was lit by the glowing candles and soft light that was coming in from the long, thin rectangular window at the top of the Southern-most wall. I shed my clothing and slipped into the warm water. Ahhhhhh!

  I picked up the wine glass by the stem and took a sip. Indigo Hills Merlot! He had remembered—he had thought of everything.

  I’m not sure if I wanted to scream out loud or pass out at that very moment from sheer joy. It had been a very long time, if ever, that I had felt this way. I couldn’t stop smiling!

  Placing the wine glass back on the ledge, I suppressed an oncoming squeal, and took a deep breath as my entire body slipped into the water. I could feel my long hair floating in the water around me. I was still smiling as I came up for air. This man liked me—he really liked me. And he was making me happier than I could have ever imagined.

  After enjoying my luxurious soak, I took my time getting dressed. So far, the day had been a wonderful beginning to our weekend. I finished my hair and make-up and made my way to the large pair of carved wooden doors at the front of the house. I opened the right-side door and saw him sitting in one of the porch chairs; rocking and looking off into the distance.

  He noticed my presence and invited me to sit with him a while. We wandered down to the large cedar swing at the end of the veranda.

  It was so peaceful. Not a hint of the rush and hurried sound of the city in the background; just miles and miles of Texas. The gentle, cool breeze melted into the warmth from the sun shining down on us.

  “So tell me,” he casually inquired, “what’s a woman like you doing still single? Why hasn’t someone come along and stuck their brand on you, yet?”

  With a delicate balance of words to escape the possibility of breaking the rule regarding talking about past relationships, I touched on the peaks and valleys of my experiences over the past few years. I tried my best not to linger on anything negative. In spite of how lousy my circumstance had been, I didn’t want to run him off with my sad, sad story. Besides, I was well past the point of desperation. I had done a pretty good job of pulling myself up by the bootstraps. He didn’t need to know all of the horrific details.

  I had survived many disappointments and heartaches that had led me to that front porch in the heart of Texas. But in my mind, I had to give him credit. In spite of my independent nature, I suddenly realized something very important about him. In so many ways, he had already come to my rescue. He had given me hope of something I had ceased to believe in—finding true love with a good man. Of course, I didn’t reveal that particular peak to him.

  He disclosed some of the deta
ils of his recent heartbreak to me. It was one of the few times he didn’t make eye contact with me; as he informed me that his divorce was not quite legally final. Because of all the financial details, they had been in arbitration. He told me about how unhappy he had been over the past few years. He confided the only reason he had stayed in it so long had been his boys. Obviously, they meant the world to him—as they should.

  He told me about how he had met his soon to be ex-wife in college. Like many other relationships founded in youth’s prime, it had gone south after the newness had worn away. From the way he described her, apparently, she had been rather materialistic. He said no matter how hard he had worked or how much he had done, it had never been enough for her. He said he simply grew tired of trying. He was exhausted from being in a situation where there was no longer any appreciation—or passion.