Sara Orwig - The Consummate Cowboy

“I talked to the bartender at the Red Rocket,” she said, “and he gave me a list of names of men who were there that night or who frequent the place. I want to ask them about Amber.” She ran her fingers across her forehead. “Do you have aspirin? My head is pounding.”

He stood and crossed to a cabinet to get a small bottle and bring it back to her. As she shook out two aspirin and took them, he pulled his chair around the table. “Turn around. I’ll massage your neck. Sometimes that works better than aspirin for a headache.”

After a momentary hesitation, she turned her back to him.

He spread his legs and moved his chair close behind her, again catching the faint scent of flowers in her perfume. Wisps of red hair curled against her nape as he began to massage her neck. He could feel the tension in her shoulders. Her bones felt delicate and as he kneaded her shoulders, she leaned her head forward and began to relax. Her flesh beneath his hands was warm and soft. He wanted to touch her, and he knew he was playing with fire by doing so. He removed a remaining pin from her hair and the last locks tumbled down.

She turned to slant him a frown over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Relax,” he said, amused that she was so bristly. “I’m giving you a massage. You feel better already, don’t you?”

She turned around without answering. He worked his hands into her hair, rubbing her scalp, massaging her slender neck. As he stroked her head, he heard a soft murmur from her, and a few minutes later a long, pleased sigh. With every sound of satisfaction she made, he felt his temperature rise. She wiggled slightly beneath his touch, stretching her back.

He worked his hands down her back until she twisted away from him.

“I hurt on my side.”

“From my tackle?” he asked, feeling a stab of guilt for being so rough with her.

“Yes,” she said, touching the ribs on her right side lightly.

“Does it hurt to take a deep breath?”

“A little.”

“Maybe I should take you to an emergency—”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice becoming softer as his hands moved across her shoulders and neck. “That does feel good. And the aspirin is working.”

“Good,” he said. She was responding to his massage like a cat being stroked. What would it be like to kiss her? he wondered. The moment the question arose, he closed his mind to speculation. Stay away from the lady, he silently reprimanded. He ought to get up, move and put the table between them. Instead, he continued to massage her slender shoulders even while silently lecturing himself on the dangers of becoming involved.

“Do you have the list of names you got from the bartender?”

Shifting to one side, she pulled a paper out of her jeans hip pocket. He couldn’t help noticing the material pulled tautly across her round backside. He took the list she handed to him. Spreading it on the table, he looked at the neat printing. As he went back to massaging her neck, he scanned the page and frowned. “I know a few of these men. Some are trouble. Two are ex-cons. You ought to leave them alone.”

“It’s the only lead I have to her. Besides you.” She moved away and turned her chair, twisting to face him. “You can stop now.”

He wanted to keep on touching her. He was so caught up in kids and day-to-day ranch life that he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been alone with an appealing woman. The last time he’d been close to one, touched one. Too damn long and too dangerous to think about now.

“Thanks so much. I feel better,” she added.

“Always happy to oblige a lady,” he answered lightly.

Her eyes twinkled, and she flashed him a smile. Startled by the change in her, he was dazzled. She had a dimple in her left cheek, and for just a moment worry vanished from her expression. It was like a flash of sunshine on the cloudiest day, and he warmed to it instinctively. “So your opinion of me has improved a notch,” she said in a teasing voice.

He couldn’t resist leaning closer and looking directly into her eyes. “It’s improved enough to scare the hell out of me. Your job is impressive,” he added quickly, wanting to change the subject after his blunt, truthful answer to her. “You’re here searching for your sister, which is more than she would do if you had called her.” He moved to the other side of the table again, feeling he needed the barrier between them.

“I have to do what I have to do. I haven’t ever been able to ignore my family. Someone has to look after them.”

He wondered about her because she seemed exactly what she professed to be—a woman entirely different from Amber. Yet there had to be similarities. His thoughts slid to Jason. He needed to tell Emily about Jason, but that was a subject he had never liked to discuss. “Keep in mind that your sister could have left the Red Rocket with some man and be in California or Mexico by now. I still think you ought to go home and leave the search to the lawmen. Or hire a P.L”

“I can’t do that. I can’t sit idly by. I’ve always stood by my family. Someone has to.”

He felt another clash of wills. Anger pierced him. He reached across the table and retrieved his beer, tilting it to take a drink. He looked at her full lips. She said she didn’t date often. What did the woman do—hibernate? Whatever she did, she needed to go home now.

“Don’t go see those men.”

“I’m not accustomed to taking orders from strangers,” Emily replied, annoyed with his dictatorial attitude.

“Maybe you don’t like taking orders from anybody. You could easily put yourself in jeopardy. You’re out of your element in this part of the country.”

“I suppose I am, but I need to get some answers. And that includes questions about you.” Emily wondered about Zach and his ranch. Sheriff Nunez said Zach had inherited his ranch, which meant his family had roots in the area that went way back. He was no stranger to the people here, so why the reclusiveness? She thought about the locked gates and barbed wire and chain-link fencing, and about his standoffishness with neighbors.

“Why are you locked in? Isn’t that a little unusual for a rancher?”

“It gives me a feeling of security with the kids.”

She wondered about his answer—which really wasn’t an answer. The man seemed shut in his own world with a high fence around himself. Was he hiding from something—or someone? Emily started to ask him.

A small cry came from the doorway and they turned. Rebecca stood in the door, a tear on her cheek, her eyes sleep-filled and her expression forlorn. She wore pink pajamas with lace trim and teddy bears dancing over them, and her small feet were bare. She held a worn teddy in her arms and pulled a frayed, small blanket behind her. “Daddy?” Her lower lip was thrust out.

“Come here, baby,” Zach said softly, and she crossed the room to him.

Her question forgotten, Emily stared at Zach, amazed by the transformation in him. All the harshness about him seemed to fall away. He softened into a gentle, appealing man as he spoke tenderly to the little girl. At that moment he looked completely trustworthy and gentle. And vulnerable. Then he glanced around, and she looked into his dark eyes—and the feeling of danger returned. His shuttered look made her feel that he wanted to be alone.

Emily’s gaze went to Rebecca and she was again astounded. She could see a resemblance to her own childhood pictures, a resemblance to herself now. If Rebecca saw any similarity, it was of no significance to her. She glanced briefly at Emily, then went straight to Zach and reached up. He swung her into his lap and she snuggled against him while he cradled her in his arms.

“Did you have a dream?”