Rebecca Winters - One Summer At The Ranch - The Wyoming Cowboy / A Family for the Rugged Rancher / The Man Who Had Everything

“Carson! I couldn’t believe it when I heard you’d made a reservation.” A wiry older man came rushing over to the entry and kissed him on both cheeks. “Are you on leave? I haven’t seen you since your grand-père’s funeral.”

“I’ve left the military, Maurice, and am back for good.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

His throat swelled with emotion. “It’s good to see you.”

“And who is this ravishing creature?”

“Please meet Tracy Baretta, one of the guests staying at the ranch with her son. Tracy, this is Maurice Chappuis, the owner.”

The restaurateur’s warm brown eyes studied her for a long moment. “How do you do, Tracy.”

“It’s very nice to meet you.”

Carson would have said more, but a coughing spell stopped him. Maurice frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“I got it when I was overseas, but I’m not contagious, so don’t worry.” He glanced at Tracy. “His son Jean-Paul and I were friends back in high school. Jean-Paul was a local bull riding legend. Maurice came to all our competitions. What’s he up to these days?”

“Same thing as usual. Helping me here and on the ranch. Except...he got married four months ago and they’re expecting!”

“You’re kidding!” Carson was truly happy for him.

Maurice crossed himself. “He’s off tonight. When I tell him who walked in here, he’ll be overjoyed.”

“Tell him to come by the ranch and bring his wife.”

“I will. Now come. Sit, sit, sit. Only the best champagne in the house for you. I don’t need to tell you we serve the best coq au vin in the world, and we have a new chanteur performing with the band. He does wonderful Charles Aznavour renditions.”

“That’s why we’re here.” He gave Maurice another hug. Seeing him like this brought the past hurtling back. Once again his guilt took over. Jean-Paul hadn’t gone away. He wasn’t restless, as Carson had been. Once his rodeo days were over, he’d stayed in Jackson. He’d built a life here, helping his father. Now he had a wife.

After Maurice seated Tracy, Carson took the seat opposite her at the window with its amazing view of the valley. The wine steward came over to pour them champagne. When he was gone, she eyed her dinner companion with concern.

“Maurice is wonderful, but I can tell something’s wrong.” Her naturally arched brows lifted. “Memories?”

He nodded soberly. “Too many. They all came rushing in at once.”

“I know the feeling. When you handed that photograph to Johnny at the airport, and I saw Tony, it was like instant immersion into a former life.”

“Immersion’s a good word.” He drank some champagne. “Mmm. You should try this. It’s like velvet.”

But she remained still. “You loved your grandfather, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then why do I sense so much sadness?”

“You know the old saying, act in haste and repent at leisure? That’s me. But I don’t want to talk about me tonight.” He lifted his wineglass. “I’m dining with a beautiful woman and don’t want anything to spoil it. Here’s to an unforgettable evening.”

She lifted her glass to touch his, and then sipped. “Oh—” She smiled. “That’s really good.”

“Isn’t it?”

The waiter brought their meal and a basket of freshly baked croissants. Maurice didn’t usually serve these with dinner, but he knew how much Carson loved them.

“You have to try one of these. They literally melt in your mouth. I’ve eaten a dozen of them in one sitting before.”

She took a bite. “I believe you.”

While they ate their meal, he saw the dance band assemble across the room. A man in a turtleneck and jacket took over the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in heavily accented French. “I’ve been told we have a very special guest in the restaurant tonight. Monsieur Lundgren, it is up to you to choose our first number before the dancing starts.”

Carson chuckled. Trust Maurice to pull this. He glanced at Tracy, whose smile haunted him. “Go on. I’m curious to know what you pick.”

“How about, ‘Yesterday When I Was Young’?”

Many people in the restaurant clapped because they knew the song, too. Once the man started to sing, Carson’s eyes slid to Tracy’s. Their eyes didn’t leave each other until the singing was over.

“I first heard that song before I was sent to the hospital,” he told her. “Remember the opening lines about being young and the taste of life sweet on the tongue, of treating life as if it were a foolish game?” She nodded. “All of it burned through me like a red-hot poker. That’s what I’d done, and now that time was gone.

“I looked back at my own life, knowing I could never return to those times. I felt older than my grandfather who’d passed away. Opportunities had been missed. Too late I learned that the now of life is the essence.”

Her eyes filled and she reached across the table to squeeze his hand gently.

“Let’s dance.” Carson stood, and reached for her to join him.

They gravitated to each other on the dance floor. When he pulled her into his arms she whispered, “You’re still young, Carson.”

He drew her tighter against him without saying anything. They danced every dance. He forgot the time, the place. Carson needed the warmth of her lissome body. With each movement he inhaled her sweet fragrance and felt every breath she took.

“I need to be alone with you, Tracy. Let’s get out of here.” He felt a tremor shake her body as he led her back to the table. Once he’d left some bills, he ushered her out of the restaurant to the car.

A few residue clouds obscured the moon. Except for his coughing, they drove back to the ranch in silence. It was after eleven, but there was no way this evening was over. Maybe she wouldn’t like it, but he pulled around to the rear of the ranch house and shut off the engine.

“This is my home. I’d like you to see how I live. I want you to come in and be with me for a while. If that doesn’t—”

“It’s what I’d like, too,” she broke in. He sensed she wanted to be with him. What surprised him was how forthright she was. That’s the way the whole night had gone.

He got out and went around to help her from the car. “The guys live upstairs. I have the back of the house to myself.”

They walked down the hall to his bedroom, where Buck had done some remodeling for him. His grandfather’s former room had been turned into a suite with its own sitting room and bathroom, but Carson wasn’t thinking about that right now. He started to help her off with her jacket, but the moment he touched her, he couldn’t help kissing the side of her neck.

“So help me, I promised myself I wouldn’t do this, but I don’t seem to have any control when I get close to you.”

She twisted around until she faced him. That beautiful face. “Neither do I.”

“Tracy—”

Carson lowered his head and covered her mouth with his own, exultant that at last he was tasting her. The singing line of her mouth had been tempting him for days. By some miracle she was kissing him back and she went on giving kiss after kiss. Like their dancing, they couldn’t stop. It felt too wonderful to love this way.

He’d been empty for too many years. He wanted to go slow, but he didn’t know how. She wasn’t helping him. This merging of lips and bodies was so powerful, their desire for each other took on a life of its own. Carson didn’t remember picking her up and carrying her to the bed. But there she was, lying on the mattress, looking up at him with a longing he could hardly credit was for him.

After crushing her mouth once more, he lifted his head, but he was out of breath. “I brought you here to...to do this...and to talk.”