Almost Heaven (9 page)

C
ameron's evenings fell into a rhythm. After his workday was done, and barring any emergencies or calls, he'd head home for a quick bite and a faster shower before driving all the way out to Kendra's ranch.

Once on his trip out, he caught sight of her in the seat of the cutter, riding the ten-year-old machine in the golden fields that paralleled her mile-long driveway. He waved, but she couldn't have seen him with the sun's glare in her eyes.

When he'd asked the helpful Colleen if Kendra was avoiding him or something, she'd only said it was a busy time of year, with haying the hundred acres—of her own hay fields plus those she leased every summer.

Sure, he could see that. But did she work all the time? He tried dropping by to slip Warrior a treat early
before he started his morning patrols, but Kendra was already in the fields, or so the teenager cleaning stalls told him.

The one evening he did spot her, it was late and she was out in the far field, nothing more than a willowy slip in the distance. She stood still with a hand outstretched to a magnificent red horse who looked ready to charge her instead of accept whatever treat she held flat on her palm.

After he'd said hello to Warrior—the horse had been awful glad to see him—he bided his time figuring Kendra would have to come in when the night wrung the twilight from the sky. But no, she'd un-tethered her golden horse from the fence and rode off bareback into the hills.

He waited another hour, long after the last employee had finished with her chores. No Kendra. He'd given up, wearing his loneliness like a too big coat on a hot day.

He was forced to deal with Colleen, Kendra's second in command, when it came to decisions about Warrior's care. He signed a contract and wrote a check to McKaslin's Riding Stable and studied the class schedule. A new session of beginners' lessons started soon and it was something to consider. Colleen offered him private lessons, since the group lessons were mostly little girls on their first horses or ponies.

When he asked when Kendra would be available to give private lessons, he was flat-out stonewalled.

“Oh, not until sometime after haying season. It's a
busy time of year, and you don't want to put off learning to ride Warrior, right? These are the last sessions before school starts.”

Even thinking about it now, in the quiet of his patrol car, annoyed him. He knew Kendra was busy, but twice he'd spotted her in the stable when he'd pulled into the driveway. By the time he'd parked, she was gone. He'd respected her rules and hadn't ventured up to knock on her back door again. He knew she wasn't there anyway.

When he'd checked the schedule, Kendra was listed as the teacher for several advanced classes, things like barrel racing and Western show. There was one beginners' class she offered two afternoons a week.

Avoiding him? Yep. He'd wager money on it and he wasn't a betting man. Did she feel the same way he did? That there was an attraction between them? Something with potential, and maybe she wasn't interested in pursuing it?

Don't read too much into that, man.
She's busy running her business. He didn't know if he wanted to risk his heart again and go through the pain of loving in a world with no guarantees. And yet the time with Debra had been worth all the pain and more.

He wasn't a waiting man. Not anymore. Life was a precious gift and he couldn't waste it, walking through life, filling his days with loneliness. Did that mean he was ready to love again? Maybe he ought to find out.

He'd thought maybe Saturday would be a good day, and even traded the workday with Frank. But there
had been a sort of competition and show put on by Kendra and her employees.

Every time he saw her, she was judging a string of nervous-looking kids dressed in tooled Western wear perched atop glistening horses being put through paces and moves and inspections.

Maybe he'd sit with the rest of the spectators on the risers on the far side of the covered arena where it was shaded. He even deposited two quarters for a soda into a vending machine near the stands. The bubbling cola slid down his throat like ice, cooling him on what had to be the hottest day of the year.

Kendra was handing out ribbons for the winning riders. He noticed she had ribbons for every one of the grade-school-age kids.

Cam took his time circling around; the stable yard was jam-packed today.

He had all day off, thanks to his deal with Frank. His pager was off, his gun was locked in the closet at home and he was a free man. Free to wait Kendra out, even if it took until midnight to get her alone.

The tinder-dry grasses crackled beneath his boots as he headed for the shade. He noticed a cigarette butt someone had left smoldering behind the seating, despite the No Smoking At Any Time signs posted, and crushed it with his heel.

“Hi, Cameron,” Cheryl Pittman called out.

They'd gone to school together. She'd married, had kids and put her minivan in a ditch last year when the
winter winds had frozen the rain on the road. He'd driven her and her kids home that day.

He nodded a polite greeting. “Howdy, Cheryl. Is your oldest competing in the show today?”

“She sure is! Caitlin's already won two blue ribbons. It sure is a nice setup Kendra has here, don't you think? Great for the kids. I hear you bought yourself that fine hunter the Thorntons had up for sale.”

“Guilty. Hope you have a good day, Cheryl.” He tipped his hat, moving on, studying the families that had gathered to watch their kids compete.

It didn't take much to see how his future
could
be with Kendra. Kendra's life was her family and her horses, anyone with an eye could see that.

Sundays would be enjoyed with her family, the sisters taking turns hosting the meal and spending the evening together.

The rest of the weekends and evenings would be spent in the stable. He had no problem with that, once he figured out how to be halfway as good a horseman so that he could keep up with her.

He watched a pair of little girls, probably second-or third-graders, ride by on their horses, giggling and looking as wholesome and as happy as children ought to be.

This would be a great place to raise kids. The thought stuck with him as he climbed the bleachers, nodded hello to everyone who said hi. He'd grown up in this town. Add that to being the local law, and he knew just about everyone.

He found a lonely stretch of bench and settled down to keep an eye on Miss McKaslin.

All his senses were filled by the slender woman looking at home in a sleeveless cotton top, faded jeans and black leather boots. Her hair was pulled back into a soft ponytail that swung with her easy, graceful stride.

Cameron couldn't help noticing the hard ridge of her shoulder blades edging the back of her shirt and the knob of bone at the curve of her elbow. She was spare, not a lot to her for all her strength and her self-sufficiency.

Tenderness warmed the center of his chest thinking about how fragile she looked, those fine bones of hers, the lean cords of muscles in her forearms as she unlatched a gate with her narrow, agile fingers.

The tenderness inside him grew. Like the burst of light, suddenly so bright at dawn as the sun broke boldly over the mountain range, that's what it was like. One moment he was sitting in shadows, and the next he was too blinded to see. He was overwhelmed by the intense desire to be the man who would love her for all the days to come. To keep her safe and cherished and happy.

He loved her. Just like that. Like gravity suddenly snaring a hunk of meteorite and yanking it through space.

“Sheriff?” It was one of the stable girls holding a cordless phone. “The, um, deputy's asking for you.”

That could only mean one thing. An emergency. He
thanked the girl, took the phone and said goodbye to any chance of seeing Kendra—again.

 

The remnants of smoke hazed the evening sky as Kendra nosed Sprite off the main road through town. It was quiet, the businesses closed, the sidewalk empty, only a few cars parked in front of the few restaurants in town.

The black scorched earth next to the road was visible on this end of the street. Like an ugly scar, it marred the golden crisp fields on the far side of town and into the distance, smoldering. A local fire truck was pulled to the side of the road, the men probably looking for hot spots. The acrid scent lifted and fell with the breeze.

She reined her gelding down the closest alley and spied a familiar SUV idling in line at the drive-in's take-out window. Why was her first thought to turn around and head somewhere else? Wrong. Cameron was a client and an acquaintance.

Earlier today, she had felt his intense gaze when she'd been handing Brianna Pittman her second-place ribbon. She'd known the instant he'd stood from his place on the bleachers and left. She'd felt the change in the air.

There had been nearly fifty people in the stands watching the show. Maybe as many milling around. Why was she aware of the comings and goings of that one man?

She reined Sprite into place behind his vehicle. She
watched the line of his shoulders tense, as if he felt her presence, the way she felt his. Like autumn in the air. Like a change that couldn't be seen or measured, only felt.

He glanced in his rearview mirror. His side window lowered. “Is that legal?”

“What are you going to do, write me another ticket?”

“I could get a few more cookies out of you.”

“What? You owe
me
cookies.”

“I've been trying to pay you back, but you've been busy, I guess.”

She shrugged. What was she going to say to that? She'd been trying to avoid him. She wasn't going to lie about it, but she didn't have to admit it, either. “Move ahead, Officer. You're holding up the line.”

His vehicle eased ahead to the posted menu, and she listened to him order two bacon double cheeseburgers, onion rings and a huckleberry shake.

From her perch, she could see Cam's profile perfectly. The striking darkness of his short hair, which was very masculine on his square, chiseled face, and the hint of a day's growth on his jaw.

Why did her fingers itch to touch that stubble?

She couldn't deny the truth any longer. A truck pulled up behind her, brakes faintly squeaking as the sheriff moved on, cornering the building.

A teenager's cheerful voice crackled out of the thirty-year-old speaker. “Welcome to Misty's. Can I take your order?”

“A bacon double cheeseburger, onion rings and a huckleberry shake, please.”

“Thank you! That will be three-seventy-three, please.”

Kendra pulled the folded dollar bills she'd dug out of her purse and nudged Sprite ahead in line.

Two little girls rode up behind her.

“Hi, Kendra!” Caitlin Pittman said in unison with her best friend Tiffany Corey.

“Hi, you two.” Kendra saw her past in a flash, how she used to ride to town with her sisters and best friends so long ago, to order double-dipped cones from the drive-through window.

It was a tradition in this town for little girls who had their own horses to ride.

The sheriff was reaching for his white paper bag of food. He pulled ahead, idling, while Kendra handed over her money in exchange for a bag and a big white cup of her own.

“Plan on riding home with that? Or eating here?”

“It's a mystery and I'm not telling you.” She didn't mention they'd ordered the same meal. Lots of people liked bacon double cheeseburgers. Probably half of the town. “What happened? You were watching the show and then you weren't. Was it the fire west of town?”

“Grass fire. Some dolt must have tossed either his match or his cigarette butt out his window. We got it out before it took out any homes.”

“I'm not surprised.” Cameron was a powerful, ca
pable man. He could do anything. “Stopping for a late supper?”

“Yep. I'm too beat from helping out the fire department to try to make something at home. I don't think I'll be heading out to see Warrior tonight.”

“I'll give him a little time when I get home, on your behalf.”

A little time. That's all he wanted. “You've got dinner and I've got dinner. We're both alone. We might as well eat alone together.”

“I've got Sprite. I don't want to leave him outside while I go in.”

“Then we can eat right here in the parking lot. How about it?”

“I'm only saying yes because I'm hoping you'll make good on your cookie promises.”

“I've got something better than cookies.” He pulled forward into a parking space before she could answer. Keep her guessing. Why not?

She swung down, graceful as a dream, and her big gelding followed her, hungrily trying to nip at the food bag. “I guess I can humor one of the men who gave up his Saturday to help put out a wildfire.”

“Careful. You're making me sound noble.”

“Right. We can't have that.” She sat down beside him on the shady grass.

They sat nearly elbow-to-elbow, unpacking their food in silence.
Think of something brilliant, man. This is your chance to dazzle her.

Then he noticed her order. It was the same as his.
See? It was a sign from above. “Did you get your hay in all right?”

“The barn is packed and ready for winter.” She stole a crisp onion ring from the bag. “Every year it's getting harder to find field hands.”

“I saw you out on the old cutter. Was it your dad's?”

“That's the great thing about having a farmer for a father. He gave me his old tractor, too.”

“So, if you have your hay in, then you don't have any more reasons to avoid me. Do you? Unless you're having another competition next Saturday.”

Heat swept up her neck and into her face. Had she been that obvious? She'd been hoping he hadn't noticed! “I
have
been busy.” Trying to avoid you, she didn't add.