One Tall, Dusty Cowboy

His eyes sparkling, he grinned down at her. “I am a cowboy,” he reminded her. “I’m an expert at taking the bull by the horns.”

Lilly figured he was an expert at taking, all right. Anything he happened to want. The trick was to make darn sure that what he wanted wasn’t her.

“Quit worrying, Lilly. You look gorgeous. And I brought you here to enjoy the evening. We’ll do burgers next time.”

She wasn’t going to think about a next time. It was going to be hard enough just to survive the night.

Inside the lavish restaurant, a hostess quickly ushered them to a beautiful little table with a view of the lake. As they waited for their meal, Lilly sipped on ginger ale while Rafe enjoyed a locally brewed lager. Nearby, several couples were quietly dining and Lilly tried not to notice how all the women were impeccably dressed.

Even though her white silk top and black pencil skirt were acceptable, she felt completely underdressed. Yet from the appreciative way Rafe’s gaze kept sliding over her, he seemed to think she looked perfect. The notion made her want to squirm upon the wide, padded chair. Sure, she liked for men to think she was attractive, but Rafe was eyeing her as though he wanted to have her for dinner, rather than the prime rib he’d ordered.

“Tell me, Lilly, have you always lived in Carson City?”

“No. Up until I was three years old, we lived in St. George, Utah, but then my father’s job was transferred to Nevada. He’s a welder for the Virginia-Truckee railroad. My parents live just outside of Virginia City.”

“So your parents are still together? Nowadays that’s quite a feat.”

It was definitely a feat for Faye and Ron, she thought dourly. But she wasn’t about to delve into the problems her parents had endured in their marriage. She hated to even think of their battles, much less share them with someone like Rafe. His mother had been full of compassion and quiet, gentle grace whereas Faye was impatient, loud and critical. He wouldn’t understand a woman like Lilly’s mother. There were times that Lilly didn’t understand her, either, but in spite of Faye’s shortcomings, she loved her.

She grimaced. “It’s pretty miraculous, all right.”

He lifted the glass of beer to his lips and after a long drink, he said, “I understand you’ve met my dad, Orin. Has anyone told you that my mother died a few years ago?”

“No one had to tell me,” she informed him. “I was actually acquainted with Claudia. In fact, I attended her funeral services.”

For the first time since she’d met him, she saw a look of real surprise cross his face, which was immediately followed by a dark, almost brooding shadow.

“You knew my mother? I never expected that.”

She nodded while her gaze followed the movement of his hands as he placed the glass down on the tabletop. All night long, her eyes had kept returning to his long, tanned fingers with their short, clipped nails. He had strong hands with rough palms that caused a buzz of excitement each time they touched her skin. The thought of them moving over her with passion also had her wondering just how many women had experienced the touch of those hands and how many more he’d lured into his bed.

“Claudia used to volunteer at Tahoe General. We—uh—would bump into each other from time to time. She was a lovely woman inside and out. I was so shocked when she took that fall in her home. But all the staff at the hospital expected her to fully recover.”

His gaze dropped to the tabletop. “It was all so senseless, Lilly. She was carrying a basket of laundry down the stairs and took a bad step. We’ve always had maids for that sort of thing. There wasn’t any need for her to be doing it—but that’s the way she was—always busy and working.” He shook his head as though the whole incident was still hard for him to believe or accept. “The fall gave her a concussion, but she appeared to get over it quickly. She’d been discharged from the hospital and was back to her normal routine when she just collapsed and we couldn’t revive her. A blood clot had developed in her brain.”

“I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt you and your whole family,” she said. “The only family members I’ve lost were my elderly grandfathers and they’d both been ill for a long time. So their passing was expected.”

Rafe looked up and she could see how just talking about his mother had drained the sparkle from his gray eyes. His reaction made her wonder if he’d had an extra-close relationship with her.

“Once she was gone, nothing was ever the same.” He looked off, his expression pensive. “I don’t normally talk about when Mom died. Not to anyone. But you’re a nurse. You understand. And I like you, Lilly.”

As he spoke the last words, his gaze returned to hers, and Lilly felt her heart wince with a mixture of emotions. She’d not expected anything so serious to come out of Rafe’s mouth. He was a flirt and playboy. He was all about having fun. It was jarring to learn that he could hurt and feel as deeply as any poor, old Joe.

“I’m not sure I understand any better than you why good people get injured or ill. Sometimes I go home from a long night of work and wonder what I’m doing. Sometimes I even tell myself I’m going to walk away from nursing and do something that won’t tear my heart apart.” Sighing, she reached for her glass. “But in the end I can’t. I want to help people.”

A waitress arrived with their salads and they readied themselves to eat before Rafe picked up the conversation again.

“I’m curious as to what made you want to be a nurse. It’s an admirable profession, but the workload and the stress would be hard for most people to handle.”

“My grandmother, my father’s mom, has been a nurse for close to forty years. She’s sixty-seven now and still working at a hospital in Henderson.”

“Wow. That’s dedication. Is she married?”

Lilly nodded. “Why? Are you looking for an older woman for yourself? One that could nurse you back to health if need be?” she teased. “From my experience in E.R. you cowboys are always suffering cuts, broken bones and torn ligaments.”

He grinned. “We do take some spills. But your grandmother sounds like the perfect wife for Dad. Not that he’s looking. But a couple of my brothers are looking for him.”

Lilly seriously doubted that Rafe was looking for a wife, either. But that hardly mattered to her. This was just an evening out. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Grandma is special. From the time I was a little girl she was my heroine and still is. She’s steady as a rock, compassionate, yet firm when she has to be. One day I hope to be as good a nurse as she is.”

“Dad told me that you don’t work in therapy anymore—you work in the E.R. That’s quite a switch, isn’t it?”

She forked a piece of romaine lettuce. “I like the unexpected. And in the E.R. you never know what’s going to show up.”

His gaze slipped over her face. “So you’re a girl who likes excitement.”

She’d never thought of herself in those terms, but he must be right, otherwise she would’ve never agreed to this date.

“I’d rather think I’m a girl who likes a challenge,” she said wryly.

He chuckled. “Then you ought to like me, Lilly. A whole lot.”

* * *

More than an hour later, after coffee and a rich, decadent dessert, Rafe ushered Lilly into the club side of the restaurant where a long bar and several small tables gave way to a spacious dance floor.

To one side of the dance area, an elevated platform in the shape of a half circle held a six-piece band. At the microphone, a woman with long black hair and a clingy red evening gown was belting out a torchy standard from the 1950s.

Not bothering with a table, Rafe led her straight to the dance floor and pulled her into his arms. At first, she kept a rigid distance away from him, but after he applied a gentle pressure against her back, she finally surrendered. And as her curves melted against him, he decided there was something very unique about Lilly Lockett. She was making him think about her instead of himself and all that needed to be done on the ranch in the coming days.

“Now that is my kind of music,” he said as he nuzzled his cheek against the side of her blond hair. “Bluesy and soulful.”

“I thought you cowboys were all guitars and twang.”

“Hmm. We’re not cookie cutter, Lilly. I have three or four wranglers who love rock music. They turn the radio up so loud in the work trucks it blasts my eardrums. A few more like standards and one even goes for classical stuff. But there are country and western fans among the bunch, too. We’re an eclectic group.”

“There goes my vision of you sitting around the campfire singing trail songs.”

He chuckled and then went quiet as the sheer pleasure of having her in his arms took over his senses. She smelled like some sort of flower. A gardenia, he guessed, or maybe it was a rose. The only thing he knew about flowers was that a bunch of them could usually smooth an angry woman. And he’d dealt with plenty of those in his lifetime. Especially when he grew tired of one and didn’t take pains to give her a gentle send-off. Funny, but he couldn’t imagine himself getting tired of this one. She was beautiful and quick and something about her made him feel so damned protective. And that wasn’t like him. Not like him, at all.

“Do you come here often?”

Her question broke into his thoughts and he peered down at the shiny crown of her head. Her hair was like spun sunlight, all soft and golden. The morning he’d first spotted her on the stairs it had been confined in a bun at the back of her head. But tonight it was loose and curled ever so slightly against her shoulders, while a jagged fringe brushed her eyebrows. All evening he’d been itching to get his fingers into it and now that he had her close, he dared to roll a strand between his thumb and forefinger.

“I rarely come here,” he answered.

Her head tilted back in order to study his face. “Then why did you bring me?”