Do You Take This Cowboy?

“All righty, then.” He twisted off the screw top. “It was going to be this or water. I didn’t bring anything else to drink.” He took out two chilled glasses and handed her one. “I had this when I was over there and really liked it.” He poured them each some wine.

“I’m sure I will, too.” She lifted her glass in his direction. “Here’s to adventure.”

“To adventure.” He tapped his glass to hers. “That’s a good thing to toast.”

“I haven’t had nearly as much adventure as you, I’m afraid.” She took a slow sip. “Nice wine.”

“Then I lucked out. Here’s hoping the meal works for you, too.”

“Since I rarely cook, almost any food made by someone else works for me.”

“This is a skillet dish a trail guide buddy created.” Setting his wine on the ground beside him, he hunkered down, turned on the stove and began pulling ingredients out of the ice chest. “It’s flexible regarding ingredients. Some kind of white fish, vegetables you have on hand and rice.”

“Sounds gourmet.”

“My friend’s a talented guy. Once every two weeks we offered an overnight trail ride. He was the chef on those outings.”

“I’m betting you were in charge of the fire.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Drew savored her wine. “Your life over there seems exotic and wonderful. I’m a little surprised you didn’t stay.”

“I wanted to spend enough time there that I felt the rhythm of the place in my bones.” He tended his stir-fry dinner. “But I always knew I’d come back here.”

“I like that idea—absorbing a place until you feel the rhythm in your bones. That’s what I try to do when I shoot a video. I think I’m almost there with Thunder Mountain.” She took another swallow of wine. “You’re a bit of a philosopher, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know about that, but ever since I saw The Lord of the Rings I’ve been into books. I might’ve read that phrase somewhere so don’t give me too much credit.”

“What books?”

“Anything about adventure, courage, honor, stuff like that. A librarian steered me toward The Iliad and The Odyssey. If I’d known that was serious literature I never would have read them. I’d taken enough teasing for Lord of the Rings.”

“But you liked them?”

“Sure did.” He paused to drink some wine. “My dad was kind of an epic hero. That’s probably why I related to those stories.”

She went very still. She knew this was important information but she didn’t know how to get him to elaborate. Finally, she decided to make it simple. “Would you tell me about your dad?”

His answer was slow in coming, but at last he spoke. “He was in Search and Rescue.”

She slowly let out her breath and waited for the story to unfold.

“A minor avalanche had trapped a family of five. My dad was on the team that went in to get them out.” He kept his attention on his cooking, carefully stirring the mixture in the pan. “They rescued everyone except the family dog. My dad went back for the dog and a second avalanche hit. The dog jumped out of his arms when he saw his family and ran to them. But when he jumped, he threw my dad off balance. He couldn’t get up fast enough.”

“That’s rough.”

He switched off the burner and put a lid on the pan. “It was rough, especially because I was only six and idolized him.” Standing, he reached into a basket next to the cooler and took out plates, napkins and utensils. “My mom must have been torn apart by the news, but she said all the right things to me—that my dad had died doing what he loved and he’d helped save the family and their beloved pet.”

She wanted to hug him and offer comfort, even though the event had taken place twenty years ago. Didn’t matter. He still felt the loss. She could tell by the catch in his voice as he’d finished the story.

But their relationship was still so new that she hesitated. At least she could help with serving up the meal. She got to her feet. “I’ll hold the plates while you fill them.”

“Good idea.” He handed her the dishes with the silverware and napkins on top. As he met her gaze, his voice gentled. “I know it seems like I got a rotten deal, but compared to the other foster boys, I was lucky. My parents adored each other and adored me. I thank God for that every day.”

That was when she realized she only had half the story. His dad died when he was six and he’d come to the ranch when he was nine. She asked the question as gently as possible. “And your mom?”

“She was a riding teacher. A normally steady horse freaked out. She fell off, broke her neck and died instantly.”

“Oh, Austin.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t awful, because it was. But after my dad died she spent the next three years emphasizing that I should do what I love because nobody knows the future. She loved riding almost as much as she loved me.”

“So you went to New Zealand.”

“Yes, ma’am. I knew they would have wanted me to.”

“Well, then.” She managed to give him a smile. “I can’t wait to see what adventure you choose next.”

He smiled back. “Who knows? You might want to be a part of it.”

“You know, I just might.”

Chapter Four (#u63e7269a-b423-5d65-90b6-4efb47220606)

As dusk arrived along with a cool breeze, Austin decided they should sit closer to the fire while they ate. He switched on the lantern he’d brought but kept it on low to preserve the ambience. As he settled down next to Drew on the blanket, he could feel the hum of sexual tension moving back through his system.

He did his best to ignore it and tucked into the stir-fry. It had turned out fairly well, which was a relief. Multitasking had never been one of his favorite ways to operate and he wouldn’t have chosen to cook dinner while telling his life story. But he’d known those facts had to come out, and the sooner the better. If he expected to spend more time with Drew, she needed to hear about his folks.

But he wanted to know her story, too. She’d worn the pearl-and-diamond pendant again tonight with a long-sleeved cotton shirt and jeans. Clearly it was important to her, so he decided to start with that. He mentioned that he’d noticed it when they’d first met.

She glanced down at the pendant as if she’d forgotten it was there. “My grandmother gave it to me for my sixteenth birthday.”

“You had it on earlier today, too.” Her scent, light and sweet, mingled with the aroma of wood smoke from the fire. It was an arousing combination.

“I wear it every day. I didn’t use to, though.” She picked up her wineglass and drank what was left in it.

“More?” He reached for the bottle.

“Sure.”

“Might as well finish off the bottle.” He divided the rest between them. “So when did you start wearing it all the time?”

“After she died last October. Wearing it makes me feel close to her again.”

“Ah.” He should have guessed something like that. “I’m sorry.”

She put down her fork and looked over at him. “Me, too, but she was ninety-three and wasn’t well. I miss her like crazy, but that’s all about me. She was ready.”