The Maverick

Sophie’s alarmed eyes met his in the rearview mirror; the car shot dangerously fast around one of the switchback curves. She slammed her foot on the brake, sending the back end fishtailing into a soft sandy spot on the shoulder of the road.

“Take it easy,” Luke said, just before he was flung across the seat as she bumped back onto the road. By the time he’d awkwardly righted himself, pushing himself up with his hands cuffed behind his back, she’d gotten the car under control and was proceeding as if he hadn’t spoken, her lips tightly pursed. He sought her eyes in the mirror, but she wouldn’t look at him.

“A boy,” he said.

Her fingers clenched on the wheel. “Let’s keep this strictly business.”

“Not possible.”

Her head jerked sideways and he caught a glimpse of her pale face and stormy eyes, brimmed by thick brown lashes. “What did you say?”

“You and I will never be strictly business.”

“Fourteen years without contact certainly indicates otherwise.”

“Nope. Fourteen years without contact only means that we both went cold turkey. Now that I’m back…” He let the smoldering heat inside him flow into his intense stare. It was amazing how physical desire could blot out one’s doubts. “Things are bound to be different. There’s a wicked temptation in proximity.” If she hadn’t cuffed him, he could have run his finger along her exposed nape to remind her of the sparks that flew between them. It was obvious that maturity had only deepened the attraction.

His fingers flexed. Was her skin still as smooth as satin? He’d always been astonished by how soft she was beneath her rough cotton blouses and cheap denim jeans. His sweet little Sophie had been a pink rose bristling with thorns.

She caught her breath. “Don’t—” She exhaled noisily. “Don’t you even think of starting up with me again, Luke Salinger. I’m not interested.”

“Well, well. Little Sophie’s learned to stand up for herself.”

“I finally figured out that no one else would do it for me.”

“Yeah.” He remembered the patrol car parked in her driveway on that fateful night. With all her defiance, why hadn’t she stood up for him? Although he’d never have dreamed of asking her to lie, it had turned out that he’d wanted her unflinching support. Had counted on it. Discovering that not even Sophie was prepared to back him up had seemed like the final cruel blow.

Years later, he understood that the situation hadn’t been so black-and-white. He’d made mistakes himself. Bad ones. Perhaps even irreparable.

“Life sure is a bitch, huh, Little Soph?” he said coaxingly.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, uncoaxed. “May I remind you that I’m your arresting officer?”

“Something you’ve been waiting to do for a long time, I’d wager.” He kept his tone nonchalant. Even so, he could tell by the way she cocked her head that she’d caught the underlying accusation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, softly menacing.

“Only that a jail cell’s where you think I belong. Maybe you always did.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t speak for a long while. When finally she did, he couldn’t tell if the quaver in her voice indicated guilt or regret or maybe even longing. “Oh, Luke,” she said. “Why’d you come back?”

“Hey, babe, you don’t sound happy to see me.”

She slammed the flat of her hand on the steering wheel. “Try to be serious, please. I need to know why you’ve come back after so long. What made you—” A shudder coursed through her. “Why?”

He hesitated, wondering about the worry in her voice. It was as if she feared him. And that didn’t make sense.

“Haven’t you heard?” he said mildly, settling on the easiest of his reasons for returning to Wyoming. “The Lucases are having a family reunion at the ranch. A black sheep is just what they need to complete the happy get-together.”

Watching her face in the mirror, he caught the relief that flashed over her features. It was gone before he could fully weigh it. “And that’s all?” she prodded, her brows beetled.

He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. The links of the cuffs jingled. “Looks like I’m going to have a date in the courts as well. Thanks to you, Deputy Ryan.”

“I’m sure the family lawyer will take care of the problem in a snap.” She’d probably meant to sound gruff, unaware that a hint of concern had crept into her voice. “Judge Entwhistle is tough but fair. She’ll take into account your clean record.” Sophie cleared her throat. “As long as it’s completely clean, that is.”

“You mean, have I been carrying out a lawless rampage for the past fourteen years?” He shrugged. “Nope. I’m squeaky clean. Other than for a recent speeding ticket.”

She smiled. Then quickly sobered. “So what have you been doing all this time?”

“A little bit of everything.”

“In the old days, that meant carousing, disturbing the peace, malicious mischief…”

“A guy learns to be more discreet when he’s on the lam.”

“On the lam for fourteen years?” Sophie braked at the highway intersection. “Some life.”

“Yeah, it’s been real fulfilling,” he growled, taunting her. What did she care? She’d cast him aside, hadn’t she?

“You always did suit your name,” she said softly. “Apparently you’re still an untamed maverick.” Her chin tilted, showing him her narrowed eyes. “When are you going to grow up, huh?”

“Like you? Little Sophie Ryan with her uniform and her handcuffs and her big, bad gun?”

She twisted around in the seat. “At least I’ve stayed in one place and built something good and lasting for myself! I’ve lived up to my responsibilities!”

Luke was taken aback. “Sophie?” he said quietly, puzzled by her vehemence.

A truck stacked with hay bales rattled past. She stepped on the gas and pulled out behind it with a spin of the tires—obviously her driving hadn’t improved just because she was now piloting a patrol car. “Forget I said that. I was only blowing off steam.”

He insisted. “What responsibility have I shirked?”

She hunched her shoulders. “I expect your family could answer that better than me.”

“Maybe.” But he didn’t think that was what she’d meant. He went silent for a few minutes, trying to evaluate the situation from Sophie’s viewpoint, with the aid of years of hindsight. If she’d been as angry and mixed-up as he, shouldn’t he be able to find enough compassion to forgive her own lapse—or lapses, according to Heath—of good judgment?

I don’t know if I can. He’d been Sophie’s first lover; his possessiveness had run strong. The shock of her betrayal had been the only way he’d made the break, and still his unreasoning desire for her had remained—a torturous emotion to live with, driving him to dangerously escalating extremes in his work as a stuntman, all part of the effort to get her out of his mind until he’d finally smartened up and realized that seeing her again was the only way to know for sure.

“I left you,” he said. “You’re still holding a grudge about that?”

She gave a short, hard, dismissive laugh. No answer.

They were passing Punch’s place, nearing the town. In a short while Sophie would turn back into Deputy Ryan and Luke would have missed his chance. He had to speak now—or forever hold his peace.

“I wanted to take you with me, you know.”

She went as quiet and watchful as an owl, her rounded eyes reflected in the mirror.

“My brown-eyed girl,” he whispered, lost in a sudden swirl of bittersweet memory. Slow dancing with Sophie in the gravel parking lot of the Thunderhead since she was too young to go inside, her head flung back, her dark eyes on his. Speeding on his motorcycle, taking the switchback at a reckless speed, her arms wrapped tight around his waist. Hours spent lying together in the long grass of the Boyer’s Rock pasture, the sun-warmed earth their refuge, their cradle. Trading kisses, whispering confessions, studying the stars.