hair that had looked styled earlier but now was windblown and wild. “It was like going to a midnight funeral. All the cowhands who’d worked on the Bar W for years just stood and watched. Memories were burning and we all knew the ranch would never be the same. A final bonfire to the death of what had once been a great ranch.”
She brushed his arm in comfort. “Pop says if ranches aren’t careful they follow the rule of three. The first generation builds it, the second enjoys it and the third destroys it. A hundred years from birth to death.”
Lucas’s rough hand covered hers. “Maybe so, but the owners don’t seem to realize how many lives are built around a ranch. I grew up there. The ranch was more than just where my dad worked, it was our home too.”
“Where was Reid tonight?” She hated to think he’d be dumb enough to set his own land on fire, but he might. Reid and his dad had been slicing off pieces of pastureland for a few years. Lucas might love the land, but Reid only cared about how much income it brought in.
“Someone said they found him at his house, passed out drunk. He must have gone there right after I hit him. The housekeeper said he came in cussing and trashing his office. She said he guzzled down all the liquor he could find, yelling about how he hated the ranch. She claimed he’d been in the headquarters all night.”
“Did you tell my pop you had a fight with Reid earlier?”
“I told him I took a swing at Reid, but it wasn’t much of a fight.
“The sheriff was at the first barn five minutes after I pulled up. The firemen had called him. Knowing your dad, he followed the first truck out.” Lucas paced in front of her, pent-up energy still building from the excitement. “He’s over at the main house talking, or trying to talk, to Reid now. I guess Reid had a right to set fire to his own property if the fire was set. It’s not illegal unless you claim it on insurance. But if he does file a claim on something he did, or if someone else set the fire, your dad will be dealing with a crime. He’ll know more after sunup.”
Lauren relaxed. No one would probably ever know what or who started the fires, but in a few hours everyone in town would be guessing. “Thanks for letting me know. I was about to put some coffee on. You want some?”
“No. I didn’t come here to post a report. I came here for this.” He closed the distance between them. His lips brushed her cheek before she had time to react.
“Am I still welcome this close?” he whispered. “If not, you’d better say so because I really need to kiss you.”
She thought of saying “always,” but couldn’t open her heart that far. She nodded slightly. One kiss for old time’s sake wouldn’t matter. He was the lover she never had but would miss forever. The almost was was sometimes far more painful than the had been that died.
His kiss was hard, almost painful, but she made no effort to pull away. Lauren couldn’t tell if this was a goodbye kiss or a hello kiss. Whatever it was, it was borne from need.
Slowly, like a man dying of thirst swallowing his first gulp, Lucas relaxed and the kiss softened, but his hold on her arms did not.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered when he finally broke the kiss. “I didn’t mean to come on so strong.” He wasn’t letting go, not this time. His grip on her arms would probably leave bruises. “I just had to do that.”
For once in her life, Lauren’s logical mind stopped thinking and she simply reacted. She’d wanted a kiss like this...full-out passion, no hesitation, nothing held back...and she’d wanted it from Lucas. “Do it again,” she ordered.
If her mind and body would have to endure withdrawal from him later, she might as well take a full hit now. “Kiss me like it matters, Lucas.”
And he did. Softer but with no less need.
She met his hunger. They were no longer children. Both knew what they wanted even if now wasn’t the time or place. She felt it then, a need they shared. A longing that would always bind them and one kiss, a hundred kisses wouldn’t quench the fire building between them.
He finally loosened his grip and let his hands slide down her arms until his fingers laced with hers. She leaned into him, absorbing his warmth. Feeling their bodies move against each other. Feeling his heart pound against hers.
When he broke the kiss, he smiled, kissed the top of her head and walked away.
Anger exploded in Lauren. She wasn’t the shy little sixteen-year-old he’d kissed once on her birthday or the freshman in college he’d lost control with for a brief moment under a midnight sky.
“Lucas.” His name came out as almost a curse. “You said you wanted to talk to me.”
He was off the steps heading to his truck. “I just wanted to hold you tonight. For a quiet woman you sure do say a lot with a kiss. We’ll have time for that later.” His words carried on the predawn wind, a promise whispered.
“Stay.” She’d learned that later never came for Lucas.
“I can’t. I have to get to my dad and tell him what’s going on.” He grinned at her. “We’ll get together later.”
“Don’t bet on it.” She stepped inside and slammed the door so hard everyone at the lake probably heard it. He’d walked away again. Just when she trusted him. Just when she wanted him. He’d put her last again. Never first. Never important.
In the silence of her father’s study she fought to keep from allowing a single tear to fall. “I don’t love you, Lucas Reyes. I never have and I never will. You can’t walk back into my life and mix me up again.” She’d been on this merry-go-round before and she wasn’t getting on it again.
Without another word or a single tear, she stormed into her old room and slammed the door. The whole lake house seemed to rattle in protest.
The room looked the same as it had when she’d left for college nine years ago. Organized. Plain. Solid. But she’d changed. She’d shifted and morphed into a stranger, even to herself. “I don’t love him,” she said to her reflection. “I never have.”
Tonight, lying apparently had become a habit.
THE SUN SLICED through the cracks in the boards along the east wall of the barn, waking Dakota.
She groaned. She’d fallen asleep without making it back to the house and her bed, again. What an idiot. Last night Dakota told herself she’d only work an hour. Just until the neighbor brought back her pickup.
But he hadn’t returned in an hour and the gentle rain must have lulled her to sleep. She’d dreamed of houses. The kind she would design one day. Beautiful homes that blended in with the canyons scattered about this part of the country. Her father died young, trying to farm rocky, uneven terrain, but her goal for the land was different.
She dreamed of someday building a secluded community near Indigo Lake. A place for people who worked from their homes or were retired. She could almost picture the winding streets and trails for walking and horseback riding, crossing through large parks and natural landscape. A place where people could see the sun rise and set over nature.
