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“You’re coming tonight, right?”
Megan made a face at Brandon. “I’m not a party person.”
“This isn’t a party. It’s a payday blowout at Grey’s.” He studied the word on the top card of the deck of index cards he held, then put it in the memorization pile. “You’re going to have to give me a hint on this one.”
They were two weeks into the tutoring sessions and Brandon’s self-consciousness had radically diminished—to the point that he asked for help without looking as if he thought he was stupid.
“It’s what you get out of the cash register when you finish buying something.”
Brandon’s lip curled. “Then I’m not seeing the need for the ‘p’ in this word.”
“Agreed.”
They always spent the last five or ten minutes of the session with the cards. Brandon would sound out the words that could be attacked phonetically and identify the ones he’d have to memorize due to wonky spelling. When he had five or six memorization words, they called it a day and he worked on those words overnight. His reading vocabulary was growing at a decent pace, and more than that, he wasn’t beating himself up as much for making mistakes. Zach never asked her how the program was going, and she’d bet dollars to donuts that he’d never ask Brandon. He simply assumed that Meg would do what she was supposed to do and that Brandon would be able to read to a degree when she left the ranch.
At the very least his literary survival skills would be increased.
Brandon put down the deck and leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “We had a deal.” He was no longer the student.
“We did. But I need to warn you that I’m not fun.” And she didn’t particularly want to go out.
“We’ll be the judges of that.”
“We?” Shane was on the road, riding in rodeos in Wyoming and Colorado. Jason and Zach were attending a cattleman’s meeting, which left...
“Cody’s coming, too?”
He cocked his head. “Not unless you want this to be more of a...” a corner of his mouth slid up “...date?”
Meg shook her head. When Brandon relaxed, Brandon flirted. “I’d eat you alive.”
He laughed and she fought a smile. As if she’d ever eaten anyone alive. “You’re going,” he said simply and Meg gave a nod. Two years of being a teacher had made her nervous about doing anything that wasn’t pretty much perfect in public, so it might feel good to let go.
“Be ready at seven.”
“Who’s driving?”
“Cody lost the toss.”
Whatever that meant. “Then I’ll see you at seven—and be warned...I like to be home by eleven.”
Brandon smiled back. “Be warned, time doesn’t exist at Grey’s—not on payday blowout night anyway.”
Two hours later, Meg entered Grey’s, Marietta, Montana’s oldest surviving drinking establishment. The bartender scowled at her as she approached the bar with Brandon on one side and Cody on the other. The place was full, but not too full. A few tables stood empty and Cody veered off to snag one while Meg and Brandon found a space at the bar. The bartender lifted his chin in a silent invitation to order. Meg had wanted an old-fashioned, but one look at the surly guy made her decide that a draft would suit her just fine.
“Three,” Brandon said, pulling out his wallet. Meg was about to protest when he said patiently, “You buy the next round.”
“How many rounds will there be?”
“No telling,” he said with a smile as he lifted one of the two beers he carried a little higher. “But this is all Cody gets, so I hope he enjoys it.”
“Maybe I should be designated driver.”
“Maybe you better not mess with MCC tradition. The coin toss is irrefutable.”
“Whatever.”
They’d just settled when Cody lifted a hand to wave at someone behind Meg.
Meg glanced over her shoulder at the woman who’d just walked in the door. The dark-haired woman paused just long enough to cause the guy behind her to bump into her, then she smiled widely and hurried toward the table. The resemblance to Cody was undeniable. Midnight hair, light green eyes. They could have been brother and sister.
“Hey, town girl,” Cody said with a gently mocking smile.
The woman, whom Meg assumed was one of the twin cousins that she’d never met, let out a snort. “Who are you calling town girl, wearing that spangled shirt?” Cody’s shirt wasn’t exactly spangled, but it did have metallic threads woven into the plaid that caught the lights every time he moved.
“Real men aren’t afraid of a little bling.”
The woman shook her head and then held out a hand to Meg. “Whitney Alexander, cousin to this glittery man.”
Meg took her hand. “Meg Marvell, also cousin to the glittery man.”
Whitney’s mouth dropped open. “For real?”
Meg smiled a little. “In the flesh.”
Whitney pulled up a chair and dropped her bag over the back. “Oh, my gosh. We always wanted to meet you guys, but the parents...you know.”
“We wanted to meet you, too,” Meg said. “I met up with this guy—” she pointed at Cody “—at the rodeos, and went to the ranch once with my dad after Vince got hurt, but you and your sister...you were like a myth to us. Twin cousins that we never got to meet.” She reached for her beer, took a sip. “Is your sister here?”
Whitney shook her head. “Kris is on the road with her new husband, who’s touring with the American Extreme Bull Riders.”
“I’m a fan,” Meg said, her eyes widening. “Who’s her husband?”
“Austin Harding.”
“I love him!”
Her cousin leaned back as Brandon delivered a beer in front of her, then smiled at Meg. “Yeah, Kris did well, but that’s only fitting. She’s the perfect twin.”
“And you are...?” Meg couldn’t help but ask.
“The adequate twin, of course.” Whitney lifted her glass with a wry smile.
Cody coughed. “The, uh, adequate twin was salutatorian of her graduating class.”
Meg bounced a look between them. “So the perfect twin was—”
“Valedictorian,” Whitney and Cody said in unison.
“Wow.”
“I got good grades,” Cody said.
“Because you were charming.”
“Whatever works, babe.” Cody leaned back in his chair and took a minuscule sip of his beer. “Has to last me all night,” he explained when Whitney made a face at him.
“Lost the toss, eh?”
Cody nodded and Meg realized she was smiling. She rather liked payday blowout night. The beer continued to flow as she and Whitney caught up on twenty-seven years of knowing of one another, but never meeting.
Three beers in, someone put money in the jukebox and Brandon grabbed Meg by the hand. They were the first ones on the small dance floor and a second later, Meg knew why. Brandon was a master of western swing. She had...some knowledge. Enough to almost keep up with him, but to flub up just enough to start laughing.
“You need a better partner.”
His expression brightened. “Maybe you need lessons!”
“Uh...” She ducked under his arm and was spun back into position in front of him as he executed a neat turn.
“It would make a great cover for the reading lessons.”
“In your little cabin. Right.”
“We can stack things on the bed. Think about it,” he said as the music came to a stop.
“Oh, I will,” Meg assured him with mock certainty.
They returned to the table to find a good-looking guy sitting beside Whitney, drawing a diagram on the table with his finger as Cody looked on. All three raised their gazes as she and Brandon approached and Whitney made a gesture toward Meg.
“Josh, this is my cousin, Megan Marvell. Meg, Josh McIntosh.”
“I thought all Whit’s cousins were of the homely male variety,” Josh said, letting his gaze slide over her in an appreciative way.
“Surprise,” Meg said, taking a seat next to him. “I know your name from somewhere.”
“He’s also with the American Extreme,” Cody said.
Her eyes widened as she pointed a finger at Josh. “I saw you on the sports network a few months ago. The finals in Texas. How’d you do?”
“Well, I’m not a million dollars richer...” he said with a crooked smile. “And I had to have my shoulder operated on a month ago, so I’m out for the year.”
“Next season will be better,” Whitney said placatingly, patting him on the shoulder in a sisterly way.
He tilted his chair back and folded his arms over his chest. “I hope so, and until then, I’m rehabilitating on the Forty Six Ranch, thanks to Miss Whitney’s brother-in-law.”
“Uh...” Whitney said with a nod at Meg. “You might not want to do that chair thing. Meg’s a teacher and you know how they hate chair-tilting.”
Meg picked up her beer. “Right now, I’m a ranch hand, and teachers only hate chair-tilting because they worry about kids going over backward. I think you’ll survive a spill.” Heaven knew he survived enough of them in the course of his chosen profession.
The next hour passed in a blur of dancing and talk and more beer than Meg usually consumed. She drank slowly, but was still feeling a pleasant buzz. Being in a new town, and not being a local teacher, brought a new level of freedom. There were no parents to worry about. No administrators to appease. No public image to uphold. She was almost, but not quite, drunk in public.
Freedom rocked.
She danced with Cody, Josh, Brandon and a couple guys she didn’t know. The beer made it easier to relax and follow the two-step and country swing that every single guy in the place seemed adept at. If she stayed in the Marietta area, she might have to take Brandon up on his offer of dance lessons—either that or drink three beers before hitting the dance floor. Brandon led her toward the edge of the floor, where he tried to teach her a complicated turn in slow motion—one that simply wasn’t clicking, making her think that practice was a better solution than more beer. He finally gave up and took her hand, leading her toward the table as the music ended.
“You’re not hopeless, but we have some work ahead of us.”
They didn’t close the place down—didn’t even come close. By eleven o’clock, Josh had disappeared, Brandon was feeling no pain, Cody was drinking water with lime while flirting with a girl at the bar, and Whitney—after leaving her phone number and making Meg promise to call next time she would be in town—had hooked up with the guy she’d been there to meet in the first place.
Meg was buzzed. Pleasantly so. But it was time to go home.
When Cody caught her eye across the room, he motioned his head toward the door and Meg nodded. He said a few words to the woman he was talking to, she leaned forward and gave him a lingering kiss and then he got up from his stool and together he and Meg waited for the music to end and Brandon to head back to the table.
“Already?”
“This is what happens when you drink with old people,” Cody said in a serious voice, clamping a hand on Brandon’s shoulder when the kid swayed backward. “It’s time to go, son.”
“Fine.” He slung one arm over Cody’s shoulder and the other over Meg’s. “I told you it would be fun.”
“It was,” Meg assured him as they headed toward the door. The drive home was long and silent. Brandon fell asleep instantly, but Meg, sitting in front next to her cousin, felt wide awake.
“I’m glad you got to meet Whitney,” he said after turning off Highway 89 onto the road leading to the Marvell Cattle Company.
“Now all I have to do is to meet Kristen and I’ll have had contact with the entire family.”
Cody shot her a look. “What did you hear about the family rift?”
Meg leaned her head back against the headrest. “Just that the original clan had one hell of a falling-out shortly after World War I. My great-great-grandfather stayed on the Marvell North and yours founded the Marvell Cattle Company, and that for years there was no contact between the two branches.” She pointed out the windshield. “Deer.”
“I see her.” He slowed and waited for the doe to cross, before easing the gas pedal down again. “I heard that your grandfather cheated my grandfather when they tried to unite the two ranches again in the mid-fifties.”
“Funny...I heard it the other way around.”
Cody gave a small snort. “But they didn’t break the ties, so there might be some question of what really happened.”
“That has occurred to me and my sisters.”
He smiled over at her. “Guess that explains the current détente.”
“That and the fact that no one filled us in, so we couldn’t continue the bitterness?”
“That, too.” He slowed for a corner. “Maybe that was purposeful?”
“I hope so.”
Brandon sat up as they drove through the gate twenty minutes later. Zach’s truck was in its usual place, and while there were lights on in Jason’s cabin, the main house was dark. The dogs were lying in front of Jason’s cabin, but they got to their feet and trotted over to greet the truck when Cody parked.
“Zach never was much good at leaving the light on,” Cody muttered as he turned off the ignition.
Brandon got out of the truck, then opened Meg’s door for her. “Time to dance,” he said, sweeping his arm toward the circle of light formed by the pole lamp.
“I don’t think so.”
“You,” he said in a serious voice, “will never learn if you don’t take advantage of these opportunities.”
Cody let out a sigh. “Come on, man. To bed.”
“Nope. Meg needs to dance.”
“I’ll dance with you.”
“Won’t be the same.”
Cody gave the kid a frowning look. “Maybe you’d like to dance with Zach?”
His eyes widened. “Not a good idea.”
Meg linked her arm in his. “I’ll walk you to your cabin, but you’re going inside alone.”
“Not even one quick lesson?”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Brandon said pulling his arm free. “And I’m totally capable of getting to my cabin.” He took his hat off and bowed in Meg’s direction. “Fair lady.” He put his hat on and nodded at Cody. “Boss’ brother.” With that he turned and started across the driveway as she and Cody looked on.
“He never gets much more buzzed than that,” Cody said. “Just enough to be kind of cute, but not obnoxious.”
She smiled up at her cousin. “Good to know.”
They walked through the door into the kitchen, where Cody snapped on a light. “How are things going with you and Jason?”
The question startled her. “I...uh...fine. Why?”
Cody shrugged. “He’s preoccupied lately.”
“Probably just hurting.”
“Probably,” he agreed in an ironic tone she didn’t quite get, but she’d had a lot more to drink than she usually did and her perceptions were off. “I only asked because I’m the reason you guys met in the first place.”
“Met, had a good time, moved on. We’re just fellow ranch hands now.”
Cody gave her a look that told her that he wasn’t fully buying what she said, but he didn’t have a lot of choice, because that was her answer. And if she repeated it enough, it might just be true. “Okay,” he finally said. “Well, I’m going to see if I can get a couple of hours before Zach rousts us.”
“Good idea. I’ll get the lights.”
But instead of getting the lights, Meg poured herself a glass of tap water and leaned back against the old painted cabinets, sipping and trying not to think about what Cody had said about Jason. Things were tense enough between them right now without her wondering why he was preoccupied. She’d ridden colts for him every afternoon for the past week, and he’d become more withdrawn with each passing day. The contrary side of her wanted to engage. The sane side said leave it be. She went with sanity, but it was frustrating that her fantasy of the two of them being nothing more than colleagues—two people working in the same place—was not panning out. Not on her end anyway.
And she was beginning to wonder if she wanted those plans to pan out.
Her body said, “No. Of course you don’t want those plans to pan out. You want to feel him pounding into you again.”
Her brain said, “Yeah? And if you can’t have the side of him that you fell for once upon a time, the side that he has so firmly locked away right now, then what good is a pounding?”
No answers there. Only frustration.
She’d just set the glass down when she heard the distinctive sound of a truck door opening. Glancing out the window, she saw Brandon climbing inside Cody’s truck and she instantly headed out the door. By the time she got outside, he was half-in-half-out, digging around on the floorboards. He heard her approach and eased his way back outside.
“Lost my wallet,” he said, looking sheepish.
“I’ll help you find it.” She went around to the other side and started feeling under the back seat on her side.
“Got it,” he said.
“Great.”
He closed the door, holding the folded leather wallet with two hands, as if it might somehow get away from him, while Meg walked around the truck. “You know I’m not that drunk,” he said.
“I do.” She wasn’t that drunk either. Just...a little lit up.
“I don’t want you to think bad of me.”
“I don’t.” But she had wondered if he’d been about to drive away on some drunken mission, which was why she’d headed outside when she heard the truck door open. Best not to share that tidbit of information. She was just about to tell him that she needed to go inside when the door to Jason’s cabin opened and he and Zach stepped outside—thus explaining why there had been no lights on in the house. Zach hadn’t been there.
“Guess they had their own payday blowout,” Brandon muttered as the two men approached. Indeed, Zach looked as if he was fighting gravity a bit more than usual. Good. Zach needed to let go even more than she did.
“Going somewhere?” Zach asked Brandon as he approached.
“Lost my wallet,” Brandon muttered. He held it up. “Found it.”
“Then maybe you’d better put it away before you lose it again.”
Brandon gave a short laugh. “Right.” He turned and started across the drive to his cabin for the second time that night. Zach gave his head a shake, then looked first at Jason, then Meg.
“I’m heading in.”
“Good night,” Meg said.
And this is where you add, “I’m going, too.”
But she didn’t. Instead she stayed planted where she was, a couple yards away from where Jason stood regarding her with a narrow-eyed gaze.
Once the doors closed first behind Zach at the house, and then behind Brandon at the cabin, the intensity of the silence between her and Jason seemed to intensify. Finally Jason jerked his chin in the direction of Brandon’s cabin and said, “You spend a lot of time with him.”
“Brandon? Yeah. He’s a nice kid.”
“Is that all?”
She almost asked what he meant, and then it struck her. “You think he and...I...?” She tried not to laugh, which wasn’t easy, since she was still slightly drunk. She cocked her head, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I have to ask myself, why would you care?”
Jason gave a small snort. “I don’t. It’s your business.”
“Bullshit. You wouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“Just curious. I mean, every day you’re at his place.”
“Yes. I am.” She kicked at a small rock with her toe, rolling it toward him before once again meeting his gaze. “And it’s not for the reasons you assume.”
“What reason is it, then?”
Meg turned things over in her head for a moment, thought about the fact that alcohol might be clouding her judgment, then decided what the hell, and sauntered forward. Got the strong feeling that Jason wanted to back up, but was forcing himself to hold his position.
Why?
And why be concerned about the amount of time she was spending with Brandon?
“We’re not getting back together,” she said in a low voice.
His expression shifted in a way she couldn’t quite read. “All right.”
“I just wanted to make that clear.” She was chest to chest with him. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body. “You know why I need to make that clear?” He shook his head. “So that you don’t misread this.”
She took his face between her palms, rose onto her toes and found his lips. She felt his body stiffen, but an instant later his hands came up to grasp her shoulders and he met her kiss full on, ravaging her mouth, letting out what felt like months of frustrations, rather than mere days or weeks. He backed her up until they hit the side of the truck and she wrapped one leg around the backs of his thighs getting as close to him as she could. And the crazy thing was that she was good with this. Good with kissing this man who’d walked away from her.
Good with showing him that things could be done on her terms.
Good with knowing that whether he admitted it or not, he wanted those things. His mouth might lie, but his body didn’t.
He tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her head back so he could see her eyes. He’d never been at all rough with her before, had always treated her as if she was going to break...but she liked this. She pressed her lower body against his again, felt the hardness there, both gratifying and threatening. But mostly gratifying.
Oh, yeah, she was operating without a net here and she wasn’t certain if alcohol was helping or hindering.
“How am I supposed to read this?” he asked harshly.
“Damned if I know.”
He stepped back suddenly, his hands falling away from her, dropping loosely to his sides. Meg stayed where she was, the hard, cold metal of the truck against her back. She cleared her throat. “Guess I just wanted to take the edge off my frustrations.”
“Did it work?” The words were clipped.
Her gaze slid down his body, to where his erection was straining at his jeans and then gave a slight shake of her head.
“Didn’t do me any more good than it did you in that regard.” She let out a small snort. “But at least you’re no longer treating me with kid gloves.” She gave him another long look so that he’d know how serious she was. “I can deal with stuff, Jason. Stop treating me like I can’t.”
