“A man’s got needs. Physical needs.”
Dax Randall heard the words coming from his mouth and fought back a groan. Sweat dotted his forehead and slithered down his back. And it wasn’t adjusting this forty-foot irrigation pipe that made him sweat. He’d probably toted this hunk of aluminum the equivalent of around the world, sixty feet at a time. He didn’t need help. But asking Will to balance the other end while he lined up the lightweight pipe had been the best way he could think of to corral his son for this talk.
It was the talk that made Dax feel like a plague of grasshoppers had landed in his gut.
How in tarnation had he gotten into this?
He glanced over his shoulder to his fifteen-year-old son. Will rolled his eyes.
“Geez, Dad, you gave me this talk about a million years ago. And I already knew it all then. I’ve lived on a ranch all my life, you know,” he added with exaggerated patience.
Wishing it was just the talk he faced with his son--he’d much rather talk about the mechanics--Dax cleared his throat as he straightened, and pushed on. “I know. But it’s more complicated with a man and a woman than with a stallion and a mare. It’s not just physical needs. There’s more involved.”
Will frowned. “Like what?”
“Like companionship and liking and respect.” He thought a moment, then added. “And trust. That’s what a woman needs from a man. And vice versa.”
Hell, yes, he’d rather talk about the mechanics.
Will ducked his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”
“I don’t need to know all that stuff as long as I stay away from females, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Dax Randall looked at the tousled brown hair of his man-child and wished with all his heart that he could fold him into his arms and rock him the way he had when Will was a baby and had stumbled onto one of the million hurts the world had stored up for him. But even if this boy weaving between childhood and adulthood would let him, it would solve nothing.
Dax waited for his son to lower the far end of the pipe, then put his in place. With the couplings complete, he and Will met at the back of the pickup, where two more mended sections of pipe awaited their attention.
“All your friends are taking to girls, Will,” he said softly.
And that meant they were leaving Will behind. Dax had seen it happening more and more. The picnics, the dances, the pool parties, the mixed groups going to movies or on trail rides. Will got invited, but never went. Since this past summer started, his son’s isolation from his friends and his loneliness had become almost palpable. He’d seen no improvement since school started late last month
“They’re all butt-heads.”
“Look, Will, I know your growing up’s been some different from your friends’, with just you and me out here. Not having a woman around might’ve made you wonder ‘bout some things--”
“We do okay, the two of us.”
“Yeah, we do. Still, it’s natural, come a certain age, for boys to start looking at girls, and enjoying their company. To seek out being with girls, maybe one girl in particular.”
Will raised his head then, and looked his father right in the eyes. “You don’t.”
Sweat collected on Dax’s forehead again, as he mentally swore a blue streak.
Hell and damnation, June’s right.
And he had to do something about it.
“Of course I’m right,” his older sister June said with no surprise that afternoon. “All Will’s friends have opened their eyes and noticed there’s another creature on this earth besides horses, cows and dogs, and he’s being left behind. That’s what’s wrong with the boy.”
June plunked another jar of strawberry preserves on the top shelf. Dax and Will mostly did their own cooking, cleaning and laundry, but June came out now and then with homemade treats, and she gave the house a thorough going over a few times a year. In return, Dax kept up repairs on the house June shared with their mother, now that they were both widows.
“Don’t look at me like that, Dax. You might like to pretend women don’t exist--except for your trips to Billings and Casper--”
“June,” he warned.
She wasn’t deterred. “--but the female of the species isn’t going away. No matter if you told Will to steer clear of girls from--”
“I never told Will that.”
June snorted.
“You live it! And that boy’s starting to live it, too. He’s followed your footsteps close enough to be a shadow since the day he was born, and if you don’t do something, he’ll turn into the same sort of lonely, closed-off hermit his father is--only he’ll do it before he’s given love any chance at all!”
Angry words bubbled behind his tight-pressed lips, then sank back into his gut.
He’d learned long ago that love wasn’t for him, and if it could protect Will from the painful lessons he’d had, he’d roll in prickly pear all day, every day for the rest of his life. But Dax had eyes, and he saw love worked for some. He wouldn’t deny his son a chance at that kind of life.
“I’m not getting tied up with anyone -- ever -- and I’m not going to lead a woman on. Not even for Will. It’s not right.”
“A few casual dates wouldn’t mean--”
“Like hell it wouldn’t.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’d mean plenty in Bardville, and you damn well know it.”
June drew the dishtowel through her hands, over and over, while she stared dreamily at the calendar from the propane dealer on the refrigerator door. “So, what you need is a stranger.”
“Not a lot of strangers in Bardville.”
His sister didn’t heed his mutter. “Someone decent and nice, like the girls Will would meet. Someone for you to flirt with and show Will it’s okay to be interested in females, but who won’t get any ideas about long-term commitment.”
“None of that kind in Bardville.”
“I know just the person.”
A tickle of something like dread jittered along Dax’s backbone. “What?”
“Not what. Who. Hannah Chalmers. She’s staying at the Westons’ bed and breakfast.” June tipped her head to the northeast. “She works for Boone’s company in North Carolina--runs the advertising department--and she’s here for a two-week working vacation.”
Since Cambria Weston and Boone Dorsey Smith’s wedding last summer, they had split time between his log-home designing business in North Carolina and the home they were building here on land bought from his in-laws. Several of his employees had flown in the past two summers for combination business and pleasure.
“Two weeks,” June repeated. “So there’s no worry about leading her on or having her think you’d break down and make a commitment. You won’t ever see her after the two weeks are up.”
Dax’s jaw tightened and he wished he could refuse.
But from the moment of Will’s birth--hell, even before--Dax had struggled to make himself an example for his child. Not a pattern for Will to repeat but a foundation he could rise above, so he ended up with a better life than Dax had.
Being lonely and isolated from his friends sure wasn’t what Dax wanted for his son. He wanted better for Will.
Dax’s life hadn’t included much real love--only June and Will. He wanted better for Will there, too.
Flirting with some perfect stranger was a small price to pay.
“This is my brother, Dax Randall,” said the friendly woman from the airport’s car rental. “Dax, this is Hannah Chalmers, visiting from North Carolina.”
Hannah turned from June Reamer to the man beside her. He stood maybe three or four inches taller than Hannah’s five-seven, with broad shoulders and chest above narrow waist and hips. He wore a white western shirt, jeans, boots and requisite cowboy hat, as well as a tight-lipped expression.
“Hello, Dax. How do you do?” She held out her hand.
“Pleasure, ma’am.”
As a large, work-roughened but scrupulously clean hand surrounded hers, Hannah peered up through the shadows cast by twilight and his hat, and into grim brown eyes. If this was his idea of pleasure, she’d hate to see him displeased.
But she didn’t look away. And he didn’t release her hand.
Her hand felt odd. Tingly, like the nerves had fallen asleep and now were waking up. Must be from all the hand-shaking she’d done since arriving at the Westons’ ranch and meeting Cambria and Boone’s friends and family.
The sensation spread to between her shoulder blades, and that got her moving.
“Uh, excuse me.” She started to ease her hand from his grip. He let go with a jerk.
She started to say something more to June, but the woman had disappeared. Turning back to Dax, she encountered a man with his hands jammed in his front jeans pockets, his mouth pressed tight and his eyes not quite meeting hers.
Silence ticked away between them like a bomb waiting to explode.
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