Uncommon Passion (6 page)

He wasn’t going to argue with that, not when she used that razor-sharp tone of voice, but still. He lashed

down his temper. “You didn’t think I should know.”

“I didn’t think you
would
know. Or care,” she added, as if now was the time for brutal honesty. Maybe

she’d seen more than he thought.

A tasty, dark cocktail of inexperienced virgin and his anger over being set up sizzled in his veins. He

studied her, well aware of his physical response, not sure if he should act on it or not.

The fuck you’re not sure.

In his peripheral vision he saw a man standing in the open door of the barn, a border collie at his side.

Ben recognized him from the auction as the Silent Circle’s owner. He gave him a short nod, then said, “I

want another shot at it.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Did you really just say that to me?” she said tartly.

“After last night you’re going to have a hard time convincing me you’re after sweet talk and roses,” he

said. Her gaze narrowed, but he didn’t think he’d insulted her. More like hit the nail on the head. “That’s

good, because I don’t do sweet talk and roses. What I do is what you need.”

“I am
not
your responsibility.”

The concept of anyone being his responsibility was laughable, but the words echoed in his brain. It took

a moment, then he remembered. Sam said the same thing to him the summer they turned sixteen. He flashed

her the smile, the only one he had left, and said, “Damn straight you’re not.”

She bristled at his smile, the one various girls called annoying, shit-eating, cocky, arrogant, and asshat.

“You don’t know what I need,” she said as she glanced toward the barn. The dog and the man were making

their way up the dirt path toward the parking lot.

“I remember,” he said without lowering his voice, “how you were shaking under me at the end. Look

me in the eye and tell me you don’t need more.”

She went still again, stiller than he thought possible. The man, Rob Strong, was almost within earshot,

and based on Rachel’s tense posture, she didn’t want to have this conversation with him around.

He lowered his voice just a little. “I want an explanation. You want to do it again. Longer. Slower.

Hotter. This time we’ll both get what we want.”

Her face flushed. He paused, because Rob and the all-business border collie were within earshot, but the

implication was there. He did owe her, and while she might be willing to let him off the hook, he wasn’t.

“Officer Harris,” Rob said, but he wasn’t asking. He offered his hand, and Ben shook it. Ben ignored

him until the dog looked up at him, then held out his fist for inspection. Tail drooping, the dog sniffed his

hand. “Is there a problem?”

Rachel watched the collie with a small smile on her face, and when the dog turned to her, she got an

enthusiastic tail wag and even a little jump. “Hey, George.” She crouched to ruffle the fur behind his ears.

“Everything’s fine, Rob,” she said then looked up at Ben. “So I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Great,” Ben said without missing a beat.

“I can’t leave until seven, after milking, and I can’t go far. The does are getting close to their due dates.”

Rob and George watched this interchange, and Ben didn’t want to stick around to argue.

“I’ll pick you up,” he said. “I know a place we can go that’s close.”

Chapter Four

“Off you go, Irene.”

Rachel gently patted the pregnant goat’s side, then released the stanchion holding Irene in the milking

stand, where she’d trimmed her hooves. The goat trotted off the stand and out into the goat yard, giving

Rachel a shake of her tail before rejoining the herd. Rachel collected her tools and headed for the barn,

taking care to securely latch the fence leading into and out of the goat yard. Rob named the predominantly

female goat herd after devastating hurricanes for good reason. One improperly latched gate or gap in the

fence meant hours tracking down and reclaiming loose goats, although the neighbors usually knew whom

to call by the ear tattoos. Irene, however, was known by sight all over the county.

Rachel wandered through a medley of spring on her way to the barn, birds chirping as they mated and

built nests in the cottonwoods, the scent of sweet, dry hay rising into the sun-warmed air, the rich, not

unpleasant aroma of manure worked into the various fields. While she loved the clear spring sunrises and

the booming, elemental thunderstorms rolling across the plains, she wanted to be able to walk to a coffee

shop, work a regular schedule, travel. Never again would she be isolated, alone, dependent on someone

else, an older woman or a man of any age, for her living.

Ben Harris seemed as intent on teaching her as she was on learning.

Inside the barn’s cold room she replaced the trimming shears in the equipment room, then began the

process of rinsing and washing the dairy equipment, left over from the morning milking. Rob hoped the

yogurts and cheeses produced by the herd of goats would become a cornerstone to his growing business, so

they carefully monitored the milk for taste and quality. She’d done much the same thing at Elysian Fields,

which ran a similar co-op between the families living on the property. Her father coordinated the care and

production from the co-op’s goat herds, although the women and girls in the various families did most of

the day-to-day work. But it would be too easy to fall into routine here, and the price she’d paid to leave

home was too high to settle for anything less than what she’d set out to find.

“How much did we get this morning?”

She looked up from the hot, soapy water to find Rob standing in the doorway, laptop in hand.

“A little less than yesterday,” she said.

“Hmmm,” he said absently.

His shaggy hair blended into the hay spilling from the loft overhead, but his hazel eyes stood out even in

his suntanned face. They were the eyes of a man much, much older, projecting a calm self-assurance she

found familiar. While he had every right to be in and out of every barn, pen, and field on the farm, Rachel

suspected Rob showing up here and now had more to do with their unexpected visitor than the goat herd’s

milk production.

Ben was the last person she had expected to see late Monday morning, but a Ben prowling with tightly

leashed energy shocked her. He wasn’t supposed to be there, demanding to know what happened,

demanding a second chance. He was supposed to be a player, not interested in a solemn, shy woman who

was by most standards little more than plain. But the emotions crashing over her from the moment he

slammed the door to his truck swept her away.

“I mailed your letter,” Rob said.

“Thanks,” she replied.

“Submit your app yet?”

“No.”

“When’s the deadline?”

“A couple of weeks,” she hedged. “I’m still not sure my science classes are up to the school’s

standards.”

“What did the admissions counselor say?”

“They make decisions on a case-by-case basis, and I could always take summer classes.”

Rob smiled at her, so easy and assured. “So you apply and see what happens. That was your date from

the auction, right?”

She nodded.

“How did things go?”

She couldn’t think about last night in front of Rob, so instead she thought about Ben’s heat and energy

radiating at her like the Texas sun in August, the tense, clipped phrases, the emotion humming from him,

the intensity under those watchful eyes. The little zing that zipped through her when he identified exactly

what she wanted. “Fine,” she said.

“Did he treat you right, Rachel?”

Rob had an old-fashioned sense of honor. She thought about how best to answer that question before

saying, “He was a perfect gentleman. You should up the ration of concentrate. They’ll need more nutrition

as they get closer to kidding.”

Rob closed the laptop’s lid, then smiled at her, a crooked, understanding smile that respected her

privacy and her boundaries. But Ben didn’t. He’d smashed through her boundaries as effectively as he’d

held her off at the auction. She didn’t buy that she owed him an explanation. What made her agree to his

demand for a second chance was Rob walking out of the barn. Her single encounter with Ben gave breadth

and depth to her inexperience, something she’d naïvely assumed would disappear once she had sex. She’d

have to explain that to the next man, and the next man would be like Rob, caring, compassionate, making a

big deal out of her background and her inexperience.

Ben knew. Knew what she needed, and wanted her to have a better time.

“Hey, George,” she said as she rinsed the last piece of tubing and laid it in the drainer to dry. The dog

trotted into the room and leaned against her calf, peering up at her as she emptied the sink. “Okay, I’ll pet

you.”

She crooned nonsense words at him while scratching the soft fur behind his ears. After a moment he

nuzzled into her hand, then took himself to a spot where he could keep an eye on both Rob and the activity

in the parking lot out the big, wide-open barn doors, and sat down to wait.

“He won’t usually sit still for petting,” she said.

“Maybe he thought you needed it,” Rob said with a smile. “I was pretty surprised when you bought one

of the men from the auction. Are you ready to date—”

“Oh, I’m not dating him,” she said, cutting him off.

Rob lifted one eyebrow. “You’re seeing him again tomorrow night.”

“It’s not a date. It’s . . .” She cast around for a reasonable explanation for a man like Ben to drive thirty

minutes out of town then ask her out again, one that didn’t include a second shot at sex, and came up blank.

Silence stretched between them. “When you’re ready to date, let me know,” he said, giving her a slow

smile completely unlike Ben’s slashing, seductive grin, yet no less potent. Heat flooded her cheeks and

danced low in her belly. He was handsome, gentle, kind. Good with animals. Everything she was supposed

to need and want, and yet he saw a fragile girl. Ben saw . . . what? “I like that we’re friends,” she said. “I

need friends.”

When she left Elysian Fields she hadn’t left just her father, but an entire extended community of friends,

prayer partners, accountability partners. Women she liked, even loved, and respected. She’d gotten exactly

what she asked for: independence. But independence was terribly lonely sometimes.

Disappointment flashed momentarily in Rob’s eyes, then was replaced with his usual good humor. “I

thought I’d head up to the stand and help get ready for the evening rush,” she said.

“Good plan.” He snapped his fingers for George and took himself off into the fields, while Rachel

walked up the hill. A week ago, she’d had no men in her life. Now she had one man who made her feel

alive, and another who made her feel safe.

You’ve chosen to live. No more fear. No going back, not until you know why you should.

And no more deception. No more fancy dresses or sultry eye makeup or even lipstick. Tomorrow night

she would go out with Ben Harris as herself, nothing more, nothing less, and explain herself to him.

• • •

The sun hung low in the sky when Ben’s truck pulled into the Silent Circle Farm parking lot. A plume

of dust rose in its wake, turning the light a dusky orange. Rachel hurried up the path leading from the

employee bunkhouse to the parking lot and stepped through the picket gate, grateful he was a little late.

She’d needed the time to shower and change into a plain cotton blouse and skirt. Ben rolled down the

passenger window. Mouthwatering aromas of fried chicken, biscuits, and mashed potatoes drifted to her

nose. Mirrored shades hid his eyes completely, but his mouth was set in a firm line.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” she said.

The lock clicked. She opened the door and settled into the passenger seat, then carefully secured her

seat belt. When the car didn’t move, she looked at Ben, and let her gaze linger on all the places she wasn’t

supposed to look. He wore another western shirt unsnapped partway down his firmly muscled chest, this

one in a faded blue pattern, jeans pulled tight across his hips and thighs, a brown leather belt, and boots.

The ever-present shades hid his eyes again, and he hadn’t shaved since the morning. Dark stubble lay along

his jaw, around his full lips. Heat cracked low in her belly as she looked her fill, flickered to flame when his

mouth softened ever so slightly. Like he was thinking about kissing her, or better, thinking about her

kissing him.

When the truck didn’t move, she spoke. “Is something wrong?”

“You have a curfew I need to know about?” he asked with a nod out her still-open window.

Rob stood in the open door to the hayloft, one arm braced against the frame, the other hand on his hip.

George sat on the barn floor one story below him, ears perked and head cocked in a similarly vigilant