Cathleen Galitz - Only Skin Deep

With that solemn reproof in mind, Travis purposely worked at keeping the conversation light as they traveled the five miles out of town to the Half Moon Ranch. Nestled into the base of the mountains and dissected by a picturesque river, it had been in the Banks family for generations and meant everything to Travis. That land was as much a part of him as the marrow in his bones.

Against his lawyer’s advice, Travis maintained that Jaclyn was welcome to anything she wanted in the divorce—except the ranch itself. A woman devoid of sentimentality or an appreciation of nature, Jaclyn had wanted to subdivide the property the instant she calculated its value by an investor’s standard. She simply couldn’t understand why anyone would endure the long hours and physical labor necessary to keep such a massive operation going when a killing could be made by selling it off. It hadn’t taken her long to discover that the life of a rancher’s wife was not the one of luxury that she’d expected. And to abandon it as quickly as she had her vows.

The scent of Lauren’s perfume, with its own subtle, flirtatious voice, filled any lapses in the conversation and kept him from traveling too far down old roads. Lauren seemed so excited about the prospect of having her own place that she was oblivious to the effect she was having on him. Travis was glad he’d paid someone to come over on the weekend to straighten the place up. He didn’t care whether Lauren actually rented it or not, but he didn’t want her mocking that which held a special place in his heart. The times he had spent with his grandfather in that old cabin were among his best childhood memories.

He didn’t need to worry. Lauren fell in love with it the moment she set eyes on it.

“It’s perfect!” she exclaimed as if seeing the Taj Mahal instead of the humble little cabin that his ex-wife considered an eye sore.

Sentimental value, and a certain measure of spite, had kept Travis from complying with Jaclyn’s repeated requests to tear it down. There was no denying that the place was a fixer-upper, but that only seemed to endear it to Lauren all the more. As she bubbled over with ideas on how to dress up the windows and what kind of furniture would be coziest in front of the rock fireplace, Travis couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm.

She turned her back to gaze out the window at the Bridger Wilderness in a moment of reverie. The pristine peaks in the background had nothing on the silhouette with which she presented him. It was surprisingly hard to keep his arms from encircling her curvaceous figure and sharing the view with her.

“This window is the focal point of the living room, don’t you think? Would you mind if I pounded a few nails in the walls? If I promise to use only small ones?”

Travis knew how much it would have pleased Grandpa to see someone appreciate the place enough to pay it any kind of loving touch. Only a few hardy perennials that Grandma Banks had planted years ago still bloomed in a neglected window box. He wondered if Lauren would bother to pluck the weeds that were choking them out.

“Pound away,” he said, fighting to keep his imagination from leading him to thoughts of undressing this woman right there on the old horsehair couch against the wall.

Lauren’s eyes shone as she thanked him, promising to keep the integrity of the place intact when considering a decorating scheme.

Travis didn’t think there was any way she could hurt the place. After all, those thick, old logs had weathered the years without giving up an ounce of character.

“You’re welcome to keep any of the furniture here. If you’re sure you want to move in, I’ll haul anything you don’t want to the dump. It’s been so long since anyone lived here, I can’t even guess what your electric bill will be. As little square footage as there is, it can’t be much.”

Not one to quibble over the price of answered prayers, Lauren brushed off his concerns with yet another blinding smile. The wink she gave him was so unexpectedly playful that it caught Travis off guard and left him wondering if he hadn’t, in fact, imagined it.

“Don’t worry about that. Hopefully, I’ll be out of here by the time winter rolls around since I only plan on being here until I’m married.”

As odd a look as Travis gave her, Lauren might as well have told him that she was catching a ride on the next spaceship to Mars. That he was so taken aback by her announcement was insulting. For the first time all day, she stiffened in his presence. She may not measure up to the supermodel types with whom he was rumored to cavort, but over the past few days she had come to the conclusion that a man could do worse than be seen around town with her.

“I didn’t even know you were engaged,” Travis stammered.

Lauren waved her hand as if dismissing something inconsequential.

“I’m not. Yet.”

A firm believer in the force of language, she subscribed to the concept that a person’s words shaped her future. That is, if she were to ask God for help and accepted what came about as a natural consequence of that prayer, Lauren liked to think that everything she needed would come to her at the perfect time. With her mother firmly entrenched in a new life, Lauren was ready to ask a generous universe to bestow upon her the man of her dreams. Whoever was sent to her didn’t have to be particularly good-looking or have lots of money. She just wanted to finish out the rest of her days with a gentle and kind man who loved children and appreciated a good woman. Too bad if Travis Banks was above such humble dreams.

“Don’t worry,” she said dryly, hoping to wipe the stricken look from his face with the same flirtatious sense of humor that had seemed to work earlier. “I can’t say that I’ve met the lucky man yet. But I believe the secret of success is a good set of plans.”

Looking relieved to hear that he wasn’t presently in the crosshairs of her sights, he assumed the air of an amused Southerner as he drawled, “Why, Ms. Hewett, are you telling me that you are planning to entertain gentlemen callers on the property?”

Without missing a beat, Lauren batted her eyelashes at him in gross exaggeration. But the tone she employed was thoroughly modern. “That is exactly what I’m telling you. Do you have a problem with that?”

Her directness was disconcerting. Travis was surprised to feel a slight sense of relief to hear that she wasn’t engaged yet. Since he seriously doubted that a woman of Lauren’s sterling reputation was going to be throwing wild parties any time soon, he had no qualms about handing the key over to her—other than the fact that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind ever since she’d laid that harmless little kiss on him a couple of days ago.

“Of course not,” he assured her with a wink of his own. “You can turn the place into a playgirl mansion for all I care.”

Ignoring the blunt edge of his verbal irony, Lauren held out her hand to accept the key he offered. Freedom glinted off its brassy surface. Five miles out of town may not be enough to keep the local gossipmongers quiet, but it should be far enough away to give her a sense of privacy and autonomy.

Her own place! What a sweet refrain those words were to a woman striking out on her own for the very first time. A world that only a few short days ago seemed parochial and plodding in its predictability suddenly sparkled with endless possibilities like so many diamonds glittering against a jeweler’s black velvet display cloth.

Lauren was quiet on the ride back to town, her mind too preoccupied with decorating plans to notice the way Travis kept casting surreptitious glances her way. He had certainly made himself clear enough on the matter of his precious bachelor status for her to disregard him as a potential suitor. Aside from the fact that he reacted the way a skittish colt did around a man with a heavy saddle whenever the subject of marriage came up, Travis Banks wasn’t exactly what Lauren would consider good husband material.