Convincing the Rancher Page 11

  “I can understand that sentiment, and I’ve only been here a couple weeks.”

  He grinned at her. “And it’s not even snowing yet.”

  “Exactly.” That grin would be her undoing. That and the way his eyes crinkled at the corner and she could see glimmers of humor in their gray depths. She looked out at the mountains, growing closer and looming higher as they rode. Then she made the connection. It was the perfect segue. “They have a lot of windmills out in Palm Springs.”

  “They sure do. Hundreds.”

  “And they’re not so bad, right?” Tess tried to keep her voice neutral, but the look Slaid gave her told her he saw right through her attempt to win him over.

  “Honestly? I think they’re ugly. I want clean energy and I want to prevent pollution, but I don’t want to look at windmills every day, and I don’t want them on the land I lease.”

  “So you have NIMBY syndrome.”

  “I have what?”

  “NIMBY,” Tess answered. “It stands for Not In My Back Yard. It’s really common. People might believe in the importance of something like windmills, or a homeless shelter, but no one wants them in their neighborhood.”

  Slaid laughed. “Yeah, well, I guess I’ve got a bad case of NIMBY, then.”

  “You know the windmills could really help Benson. You could even stipulate that they have to be manufactured here, and that local young people have access to training for those manufacturing jobs.”

  “We have jobs. Ranching. Tourism.”

  “Ranching’s in trouble,” she countered. “I did a little research. There are more than a few ranchers in the area who’ve already sold a lot of their cows because of the drought.”

  “We’ve had droughts before and we’ve gotten by. We will again.”

  “But communities will have to make some sacrifices so we can get off fossil fuels.”

  “Yes, but why my community? Especially now that we’re trying to install solar panels. And by the way, don’t even get me started about the grid crashing. I was up all night reading about it and now I know that’s just speculation, mainly fueled by big power companies who don’t want to change their ways.”

  “We could argue about that for a long time,” Tess said.

  He glared at her, but she saw humor still there. “Let’s not, then. So my point was, why shouldn’t the community who will use this energy provide it?”

  “Maybe they don’t have wind?” Tess asked.

  “Sure, but again, why does Benson have to be the one to supply it?”

  “Because it’s windy here.” It was a lame answer but it was all she had.

  “There are a lot of windy places. And, quite frankly, the folks in this area are tired of our land being sacrificed.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I would’ve thought someone like you would have done her homework. You must have seen the trickle that they call the Owens River. The dust flat that used to be Owens Lake.”

  “Well, yes. But we’re in the worst drought in history. Of course it’s all dry.”

  “It’s always a trickle. Because Los Angeles stole that water years ago and now we have barely any to make our farms and ranches possible out here.”

  Tess felt a sense of foreboding that she’d walked into a bigger mess than she’d realized. She made a mental note to read up on the history of water in this area when she got back to the cottage tonight. For now, she had to keep her voice neutral. “That’s unfortunate. I knew LA got its water from somewhere around here. But it’s history, Slaid.”

  “And it’s repeating itself.”

  “Southern California also provides a lot of those tourists you’re so fond of.”

  Slaid’s voice was quiet. “I don’t want history repeated on my watch. I’m not willing to sacrifice the beauty out here so that LA can build more houses and turn on more lights.” He paused and looked at her, smiling faintly. “We keep having these conversations and we get nowhere. I really liked the few minutes we spent today not arguing—can we agree to keep the peace for the rest of the ride?”

  Tess knew she shouldn’t agree. She’d prepared for today, made sure she had facts memorized, her responses formulated. But he was right—it would be nice to take a break from all the arguing. “Okay, a truce. As long as we’re clear that I’ve always delivered what my clients want, and I don’t plan on disappointing them this time.” But when she looked at the wide-open spaces around her and tried to picture windmills there, she felt a lot less confident than she was trying to sound. She might not be comfortable in the wild beauty of the Eastern Sierras, but that didn’t mean she wanted it scarred forever by wind farms.

  She reminded herself that it didn’t matter how she felt. Her job was simply to shed a positive light on the windmill project and be the best spokesperson she could be. If she did that she’d succeed, just like she always had. It was a simple equation, so why the anxiety?

  The wide track was leading them up hills that were quickly getting steeper. Out here things went from valley to mountain range all in the space of a mile or two. Stunted pines started to appear on the hillside, their thick trunks betraying their old age.

  Slaid and Puck led them onto a side trail at the top of the hill, and Tess nudged Wendy to follow. From here they could look back over where they’d ridden. Benson looked like a collection of dollhouses. She could even pick out her little cottage, and Slaid’s trailer—a speck parked in front of it.

  Slaid dismounted gracefully on the flat hilltop while Tess awkwardly swung her leg over and groped for the ground with her foot. Relieved to make contact with land, she pulled her other foot out of the stirrup, grateful that Wendy, who was watching her efforts with a quizzical expression on her face, stood solidly.

  Slaid led the horses over to an area that had a little more grass than the rest of the hilltop and let them graze. Then he held out his gloved hand. Tess hesitated, then took it, feeling a strange peace when his strong fingers wrapped around hers. They walked to a flat rock that jutted out, surrounded by the breathtaking view.

  “Well, it isn’t a fancy restaurant or anything you’re used to from the city, but want to have a seat?”

  With one wistful thought of how much she’d like to be in a fancy restaurant right now, especially a warm one, Tess plunked down on the rock, her various layers and big boots making her feel clumsy. Slaid sat next to her and tipped his felt cowboy hat back a bit, looking out at the view. He had a great profile—a strong nose but not too big, cheekbones just visible and a clear jawline that she had to resist tracing with her fingers. His skin was a natural golden color that many women, herself included, paid lots of money to replicate with bronzer.

  “So what do you think?” he asked.

  “Of what?” She looked at him, wondering if she’d missed something he’d said while she’d been ogling him.

  “All of this.” He gestured with his hand, encompassing the view around him.

  “Oh, the nature?”

  He turned to her, an incredulous smile on his face. “Yes, the nature! Have you ever been outside of the city before?”

  Tess stared at the view, trying to figure out what to say about it. She was starting to like it a little, and she’d just realized that she’d rather it wasn’t ruined by windmills, but she couldn’t tell him that. “Well, it’s large, and impressive.” She paused, suddenly aware of her choice of adjectives. She raised an eyebrow at Slaid suggestively. “The nature, I mean.”

  He flushed a little, but ignored her attempt at humor. “Not so forsaken as you thought?”

  Evidently he wanted a serious answer. Tess tried to think of the right words to describe how it made her feel. “It’s beautiful, of course, but overwhelming. You have to understand, aside from Samantha’s wedding, I’ve spent zero time in a place like this. I’ve never camped. I’ve rarely hiked. I was raised in a city and I’ve stuck to them ever since. So when I come out here, it’s almost like I don’t have the brain cells to process it, or the vo
cabulary to describe it.”

  “That just means you need to spend more time out here.”

  Tess smiled. “Perhaps. Or maybe it means I need to get back to the city, where I belong.”

  “Cities are nice places to visit. This is where real life happens.”

  “We have very different ideas of what counts as real life.”

  “Opposites attract.”

  He was looking right into her eyes, and she had a hard time looking away. But somehow she did. “That’s what they say.”

  She studied the view, trying to come up with words to do it justice. Across the valley were hills, dry, stark and tumbling on, one after another. They were so barren that she could see every detail of the land’s contours. It was like being able to look through someone’s skin and see their bones.

  “Those hills are my pastures.” Slaid’s voice was quiet. “The ones I lease.”

  Tess pictured more windmills, and felt a little sick.

  “Tess, you know in your heart that if it happens, it will be a big loss.”

  Just her luck to get stuck with an ex-lover who has mind-reading powers as her opponent in this struggle. “My heart can’t get involved. Is that why you brought me out here? To convince me that it’s too beautiful to spoil?”

  “No. That’s not why I brought you here,” he said.

  “Then why?”

  “Because I want to be around you. There’s something about you...” He looked away as if trying to collect his thoughts. When he looked back, his expression was sheepish. “Well, I just want you to see what I see when I look out at this land. I want you to see the beauty. Not for any real purpose, just to see it.”

  Tess stared at him. “You want me to like it.”

  “Yeah.” His cheeks were a little flushed, as if he’d just realized how silly that sounded.

  “Because you like it.”

  “I guess.” He looked out over the hills again.

  “Well, okay, then.” She looked in the same direction, trying to see the landscape through Slaid’s eyes this time. Trying to see the beauty that he did. The skeletal hills were lit golden in the afternoon light, their cracks and crevices in deep contrasting shadows. That was kind of pretty. Rocks jutted through the thin soil like abstract sculptures, and she liked modern art.

  “I can see beauty, but it’s so vast and aloof—it seems so lonely. I don’t know how people ever feel at home here.” She shivered. “And it’s getting cold!”

  He moved over on the rock and put his arm around her.

  She shouldn’t let him, as much as she wanted to. “I’m fine.”

  “Let me help,” he said. “I keep forgetting you’re not used to our weather, probably because you being here, in Benson, feels so right to me.”

  Tess couldn’t hide her surprise. “What part of me being here seems right? Because I can tell you, I’ve never felt more like a fish out of water.”

  “I know small-town life is all new to you, but seeing you again after two years of wondering about you, that’s the part that seems right.”

  Suddenly it was hard to breathe. She slid out from under his arm. “Trust me, there is nothing right happening here. Slaid, you need to forget about that night.”

  “I can’t. And you may have forgotten my name, and not recognized my face, but I think deep down you haven’t forgotten that night, either.”

  Tess stared at him, shocked. He stared right back as if daring her to contradict him. “Just because I haven’t totally forgotten doesn’t mean it’s a good idea for us to get involved.” She continued staring—she wouldn’t be the one to look away. But as she watched, something in his eyes darkened and his focus shifted from her eyes to her mouth. A faint voice in her head whispered that she should get up and walk away, but the purpose she saw in Slaid’s expression had her cemented to the ground. It was hard to breathe, let alone leave. He brought his mouth down closer. Tess felt the attraction between them like the force of two magnets, slamming together over that final tiny distance.

  His kiss was just like the ones that had scorched her memories for the past two years—strong and insistent. His confidence—the way his hand felt so large as it settled firmly on her jaw and held her so he could deepen the kiss—sent the last remnants of reason tumbling away. And when he pulled her closer so she was facing him, she realized that those remnants might never come back. There was something about him, his size, his strength, or the way he seemed so calm and capable, that met a need inside her she hadn’t known she had.

  Her hand went up of its own accord and reached behind his head, pulling him closer. All she could think was how much she wanted his mouth on hers, in a kiss so firm it was almost punishing.

  Slaid seemed to sense her urgency. He wrapped strong fingers in her hair, pulling her still closer. She recognized the taste of him as one she’d been seeking since Phoenix.

  But it was only a taste, and she wanted so much more. Her hand went to his parka and yanked the zipper down. Then she was running her fingers over his solid chest, over the bulk of his linebacker shoulders, the ridges of muscle in his abdomen, wanting to feel his skin there instead of the layers of fabric. “Slaid...” she gasped.

  He pulled her up onto his lap so she was straddling him, his mouth somehow never leaving hers. The demand of his kiss matched that of his hands as he yanked her sweater up and ran his big hands along the bare skin of her back, her sides and then over her bra.

  The cry that tore through the air was hers. She felt as though something inside of her was famished, had been waiting for this moment. She squirmed on his lap and he eased her back, slowing their pace, dictating how it would be between them.

  The desire that flooded through her blocked out everything else. All she wanted, the only thing that mattered, was to feel his body along hers. She leaned in, trying to force him back onto the ground so she could lie over him. Instead he scooped her up, set her on the ground next to him and, leaning on an elbow, continued the kiss as his free hand roamed down her body, over her jeans, finally wrapping around her thigh. Tess moaned and rolled toward his hand and something prickly stabbed her at the waist.

  “Ouch!” she yelped, and he was off her in a flash, helping her sit up and get away from the sharp spines of the little gray-blue innocent-looking plant that had been crushed beneath her. “What was that?”

  Slaid’s breath was uneven and rough. “Thistle.” He grinned at her. “Sorry about that.”

  “Hazardous around here.” She couldn’t help smiling back. The desire she felt was exhilarating, and despite the menacing thistle, she couldn’t wait to kiss him again.

  “Maybe this little guy did us a favor,” Slaid said, poking at the plant with his finger. “As much as I was enjoying myself, this probably isn’t a great idea.”

  Reality was such a miser, pulling the golden heat between them right out of her grasping hands. “Remind me why not?” She rubbed her hand over the skin that the thistle had stung. “Besides the fact that plants out here have teeth?”

  He laughed softly and tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “Because we already did this.”

  “We haven’t done this. Trust me, I’d remember.”

  “We’ve already slept together. Two years ago. And it was incredible. And obviously, if we slept together again, it would be even better.”

  “So why, exactly, are we stopping?”

  “We’re stopping because I want more.”

  “That makes no sense. I want more, too. So let’s have more.” It occurred to her that she was starting to sound a little desperate.

  His voice was gentle, his eyes almost hypnotic the way he held her gaze so intently. “I want you, Tess Cole. Like I’ve never wanted anyone. But not like this... Call me old-fashioned, but I’d really like to get to know you better first. Before we...”

  His voice trailed off, and Tess hid her confusion with a practical tone. “Well, I expect you will. I’ll be around for a month and we’ll be working together. Or agains
t each other.”

  He looked at her in exasperation. “You know what I mean.”

  She sighed. Of course she did. “You mean you want a few formalities before we sleep together again.”

  His deep gray eyes opened a little wider. “You really don’t have a scrap of romance hiding in there, do you?”

  That stung, though it was probably true. “I just don’t understand why we have to go slow if this is something we both really want. We’re consenting adults. It doesn’t have to affect our business relationship. We can keep it professional during work hours and...” She couldn’t help the suggestive note that crept into her voice. “Keep it very, very nonprofessional in our off-hours.”

  He smiled at her insinuation. “We could. But that’s not really my style. I want to take you out, spend time with you, talk, do things together, have a meal. I want to get to know you so there’s more between us than just sex.”

  She had no idea how to handle this. “But why worry about all that? I’m only here for a couple weeks. If we date, all we’ll do is find out we have nothing in common. You like all these outdoor activities and cows and stuff, and I like shopping and being in the city.”

  “Have you enjoyed this today? Riding Wendy out here?”

  “Yes, I have.” She hated to admit it.

  “So maybe there’s a whole lot of other stuff out here you’ll like, too.”

  “Fine, let’s say we go on a few dates. We’re on opposite sides of a very public controversy. You’re the mayor of Benson. What will your constituents say when they see us out together?”

  “I dunno...that we’re a cute couple?” He picked a pebble off the ground and threw it down the hill. Somehow that boyish gesture, right in the middle of their very adult conversation, went straight to her heart. “I’m not worried about what people will think about us dating. Dating is healthy and natural. I’d be a lot more worried about what people would think about us sleeping together, no strings attached. That’s not really the example I want to set for my kid or my town.”

  “I don’t date, Slaid. Ever. Sorry.” There, it was out.