From the Boots Up Read online

  The girl’s eyes widened and she looked up at a woman Meg assumed was her mom for an affirmative.

  “Now for the really important rule. Breakfast is seven to nine, lunch is twelve-thirty to two, and dinner is five to seven. You’ll know when it’s time to eat because we bang the heck out of that metal triangle hanging over there by the dining room. We do buffet style here, and we do keep coffee and other beverages and snacks available during the day. If you signed up for a special diet, when you come in for a meal, you’ll find a stack of red name cards on the small table to your right as you enter the dining room.” She gestured at the building that housed that and the kitchen. “Find your name and give it to one of our fabulous staff and they’ll go get your equally fabulous meal. Any questions so far?”

  The little girl she’d looked at earlier raised her hand.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you a cowgirl?”

  Laughter rippled through the group and Gina’s smile widened.

  “Do you think I am?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Meg asked, giving her an encouraging smile of her own.

  “’Cause you have cowboy boots on.”

  “Hmm. That’s a good observation. But do you have to be a cowgirl to wear boots?”

  The little girl thought about that for a minute. “No.”

  “Then maybe I’m not a cowgirl.”

  “No, you are,” she insisted.

  Meg laughed.

  “’Cause you live on a ranch,” she added.

  “Well, you’re going to live here for a week. Maybe you’re a cowgirl, too.”

  She smiled and took her mom’s hand.

  “Okay.” Meg returned to her introduction. “Last thing, for now. When you go into your rooms tonight, you’ll see some bottled water. Drink it. You’re at altitude, now, and to keep yourselves from feeling funky and weird or developing nasty headaches, get hydrated and take it easy the first day or so. Oh, and if you need a phone, we keep one in the dining hall and one in the main office. Mobile phone service varies out here from spotty to nonexistent, even with roaming. Ask one of us if you need to make a long distance call and we’ll get you set up.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “How was that?”

  The adults in the Forster party laughed and Gina smiled. Meg wrenched her gaze back to the Forsters.

  “If you need anything, or if you have any questions, ask me or my dad—that’s Stan—or any of the staff here. And above all, have fun. That’s a requirement.”

  “Thanks so much,” said one of the men. “Can we still get some dinner?”

  “You’ve got another hour. Head on over. And the bonfire starts about eight.”

  The Forster Party decided to go to dinner before they unloaded their luggage, and they walked toward the lodge, leaving Meg with Gina.

  “Okay,” Meg said. “Lucky number five. You’re upstairs. Which is my preference, actually, because you get some great views.” She was talking too fast. Calm down, she admonished herself.

  “Excellent. Let’s go.” She waited for Meg to precede her up the stairs at the end of the building and Meg led her to a room that was near the opposite end from the stairs.

  “Here we are,” she said, tossing a goofy little game show flourish at the door. She handed her the last key, relieved that their fingers didn’t touch.

  “Thanks,” Gina said.

  “Sure.”

  Gina stood watching her, expression unreadable.

  “Um, so I’ll see you in a few minutes. At the dining room.” She gestured toward the lodge.

  “Yes. Thanks again.”

  Meg left before she could say any more stupid stuff. “Oh, my God,” she muttered as she went down the stairs. Could she be any lamer? She returned to the dining room, where at least she’d have a bit of safety in numbers. Her plate was where she’d left it, and so were Marjorie and Jim and Laura. Good. Because if Gina decided to sit with her one-on-one, she was sure she’d embarrass the hell out of herself.

  “Be right back,” she told the three as she picked her plate up and went to get another piece of chicken. By the time she sat down again, she felt composed enough to deal with Gina. At least she’d provide a nice respite from the reporter for a few days. Who had yet to arrive, she thought as she bit into her chicken. Or maybe she had, and her dad was dealing with her. She listened to Marjorie, who was talking about her art to Laura and Jim. She had just about finished her chicken when Gina approached.

  “Mind if I join you?” She smiled down at her, and she held a plate loaded with food.

  “Well, by all means!” Marjorie said before Meg could speak. “I’m Marjorie. And this is Laura.” she gestured at the young woman next to her. “And that handsome fellow is Tim, her husband. And this is—”

  “Meg,” Gina interrupted with another smile. “I know. We’ve met. And she does a most excellent introduction to the ranch.” She took the empty seat on the bench to Meg’s right. “I’m Gina.” She said to the others.

  Meg automatically reached for the basket of rolls and passed them to Gina while Tim pushed the pitcher of iced tea toward her. She picked Gina’s glass up. “Tea okay?”

  Gina nodded. “Great. Thanks.”

  She filled Gina’s glass, then Marjorie’s. She was no longer calm. At least not internally. Her heart was kicking her ribs like a saddle bronc.

  “So where are you from?” Laura asked. “Tim and I are from Chicago and Marjie’s in from St. Paul.”

  “L.A,” Gina said just before she took a bite of chicken.

  Again, Meg tried not to stare but something clicked. L.A.?

  “And what brings you here?” Marjorie pressed.

  “I’m a reporter.” Gina reached for a roll with one hand and held it while she buttered it with the other.

  Meg tried hard not to stare at her. Instead, she rolled that realization around her brain, and stole glances at Gina’s hands. Which were great, too. Competent and strong. Great eyes, great smile, great hands. And she was the reporter. Hell.

  “Oh, how exciting! Are you doing a story about the ranch?” Laura leaned forward, interested.

  “I am. And I’m going to interview everybody here, take all your quotes out of context, and write an exposé about Wyoming antelope trafficking.” She quirked an eyebrow and took a bite of her roll.

  Laura looked at her, apparently not sure whether Gina was kidding or not.

  Meg stifled a laugh. “We’ll be sure to show you where the aliens started mutilating cattle, too.” She took a sip of tea and watched out of the corner of her eye as Gina flashed her a look. The trace of another smile hovered on her mouth.

  Laura caught up with the joke and laughed. “Well, you should start your story with Meg. She grew up here.”

  “Which means she probably knows all about these nefarious antelope trafficking networks.” Gina looked at Meg and a slow smile eased like a summer evening across her face.

  “They’ve paid for my silence. The aliens, on the other hand. . .” Meg shrugged and took another drink.

  Marjorie giggled.

  “Where will the story be published?”

  Gina looked over at Laura. “Los Angeles Times. If we’re lucky, it’ll also get a spread in one of the issues of the Sunday magazine. I’ll be taking a lot of photos while I’m here. Hopefully a few will make the cut.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Marjorie said. “I’m sure Stan appreciates the publicity,” she looked at Meg for confirmation.

  “Definitely.”

  “You say that now,” Gina said, “but wait until you see what I write, first. Although I could get you all kinds of paranormal researchers, if you just show me the spots where the cattle were mutilated. Or those other spots where a possible Bigfoot lurks.”

  “I might. If you can get an episode of X-Files filmed here.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” she said, humor sparking in her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do. I’m based in L.A., after all. Hollywood and all that.”
/>   “Oh, I think the Diamond Rock would be a fabulous location for a western,” Marjorie interjected. “Something like Silverado. Or Lonesome Dove.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Gina smiled and took a bite of green beans.

  Meg shifted her attention to her own plate. Gina’s lips were far too inviting.

  Conversation drifted back to Wyoming and the workings of the Diamond Rock Ranch. Meg answered good-naturedly and she relaxed a little, since she didn’t have to address Gina one-on-one, with other people present. She punctuated her responses with a few funny anecdotes, which had Marjorie and Jim laughing. Laura’s expression was a mixture of disbelief and amazement. Gina laughed as well, and offered a few teasing comments that triggered butterflies in Meg’s stomach that she tried to ignore, until a new round started up, usually whenever Gina glanced at her.

  She was just finishing a story about the time Dammit chased a skunk through the dining room when Stan appeared. He grinned. “Glad to see y’all having a good time. I need to borrow Meg for a bit.”

  Jim, Laura, and Marjorie all responded in kind as they got up to leave. “We’re going to get ready for the bonfire,” Jim said. “See you there.”

  “You bet.” Stan gave them a wave. “There’ll be hot drinks in here if you want to bring one fireside.” He turned to Gina. “Did Meg get you settled?”

  “She did. In style.” She glanced at Meg, and more sparks rode the butterflies through her chest.

  “Well, we’re darn pleased to have you. Welcome aboard and thanks for coming on such short notice. Your editor told me what happened with the other reporter. Hope she’s okay.”

  “She is,” Gina said. “But she’s envious that I’m here. She wanted to be the annoying reporter. I’m pleased to say that honor has fallen to me.”

  “Oh, no problem. And trust me, no one’s as annoying as Cherry Goodnight here,” he gestured with his head at Meg.

  Gina looked at her, puzzled but amused.

  “That’s it, Dutchie.” She punched him playfully on his arm. “I’ll have Dammit scare up another skunk just for you.”

  He grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So did you tell Gina here about the time you decided it might be fun to go horseback riding in the buff?”

  Her face flamed and she bit her lip.

  “I don’t believe she did. Probably didn’t want anyone to write something out of context,” Gina said innocently.

  “Christ, Dad. I was three. Nothing sordid about that.”

  “True.” He stroked his mustache. “Rite of passage for all Wyoming children. They have to ride a horse naked.”

  “How far did you get?” Gina’s eyes seemed to sparkle.

  Meg clamped her mouth shut but Stan answered.

  “Clean down the county road. Thank God I found her before her mom did. Else we both would’ve been in a world of hurt. And I’ve got plenty more like that for your article. Let me know when you want to have a sit-down. And let me or Meg know if there’s anything you need. She may be annoying, but she is rather amusing.” He winked and moved away. “Meg, catch me at the office before the fire.” he shot over his shoulder as he left the dining room.

  “Okay.” Still embarrassed, she avoided Gina’s eyes and instead picked their plates up off the table.

  “So,” Gina said as she picked up their glasses. “Naked?”

  “I did have boots on.” She headed toward the kitchen with the dishes and put them in the bus tub that sat on a small table just outside the door. “I was just a kid.”

  Gina placed the glasses in the tub and followed Meg out of the dining room into the long evening shadows in the parking area. “I think it’s a hell of a cute story.”

  A different kind of flush worked its way up Meg’s neck. “Please don’t write that one.”

  Gina smiled. “Your secret is safe with me. And your dad. And probably all the other people he tells that to.”

  Meg groaned. “Good point.”

  “But have no fear. It’s definitely safe with me. By the way, thanks for the help on Wednesday.”

  “Oh, sure.” Meg relaxed, relieved that she changed the subject. “No problem. Did you get your tire fixed?”

  “Yep. And your name is worth five dollars.”

  She frowned, confused.

  “Jim charged me ten bucks instead of fifteen.”

  Meg smiled. “That’s great. Anyway. . .” she cleared her throat nervously. “If you need anything, let me know.” She groaned inwardly, and wondered why the hell she couldn’t carry on a decent conversation with her. She felt exposed in Gina’s gaze, unsettled in the quiet intensity of her eyes and she wished she knew what Gina was thinking. No, maybe she didn’t. Because maybe she thinks I’m an idiot.

  “I will. And I’ll see you at the fire.” She held Meg’s gaze for a couple seconds longer then turned and started walking across the thirty yards of hard-packed dirt that separated the lodge from the motel. Meg tried not to stare but the way she looked and moved in those jeans was an open invitation. And Gina suddenly threw a glance over her shoulder at her.

  Busted.

  Totally.

  She quickly ducked her head and hurried over to the office. She’d need another shower—cold—at this rate. Hell, she was looking at a week of cold showers. “Shit,” she muttered as she went inside.

  Four

  “Gina seems like she’ll write a good story.”

  Meg glanced at Marjorie, seated on the log next to her. “Oh?”

  “I’ve been around a lot of journalists, and you can tell which ones are the good ones. I think she’s one of those.”

  “Let’s hope.” She stared into the flames, which were slowly collapsing into coals. Gina sat across from her, talking to a couple of the other guests on the other side of the bonfire gathering place. For the past hour, she’d surreptitiously studied Gina’s features, and the way she made gestures with her hands, and the way she brushed her hair out of her face now and again and she wondered why the hell she kept staring and what the hell was wrong with her. It was only Gina’s first night here. Hopefully, this crush would fade quickly. Because it was seriously distracting.

  “One of my good friends is a journalist. She’s always thinking in those terms. Always watching. She constantly observes things. She’d make a good detective, the things she notices.”

  Meg got the feeling that Gina was like that, and not much got past her. Which could be either good or bad, depending on what she decided to write.

  “A piece in the Times will bring lots of publicity.”

  “That’s the plan. But we count on guests like you to spread the word. Unless you have a bad experience, in which case, we have ways of making you quiet,” she said in a spooky voice.

  Marjorie laughed then switched to a different topic. “Is it difficult, sometimes, not to see your college friends all summer?”

  “Not really. There’s email. And most of us are pretty busy, so by the time we realize we haven’t talked, classes are about to start again. I might see a few of my friends from Laramie or Cheyenne who come by for a visit, but other than that, we’ll email a few times.” She shrugged.

  “I have a niece who works every summer on a ranch in Arizona. You remind me of her in some ways. Except she was born a city girl and somehow found her way out West. She loves working there.”

  “See? You could end up a cowgirl, too.”

  “I think I just prefer the visiting part,” Marjorie said with a smile. Laura appeared, and after they all exchanged greetings, she and Marjorie chatted about St. Paul.

  Meg leaned back and looked up, at the myriad stars that salted the night sky and flavored the splashes of Milky Way, and she imagined that she and Gina were the only ones out here, sitting together on the log, chill of the night at their backs and warmth of the flames on their faces.

  She shifted her gaze back to the fire. Davey blocked her view of Gina because he was talking to her, his back to Meg. Gina didn’t seem the type to get sucked in by
guys like him, but his actions irritated her, as she watched. No way was he just trying to be nice. His motives always involved a lot more than just passing the time and being hospitable. She glared a hole into his back and he did move, but only to sit on the log next to Gina. To Meg’s satisfaction, Gina didn’t seem all that pleased about it, and spent the next few minutes nodding politely as he spoke. At least, that’s what it looked like.

  Good, Meg thought. Talk to the hand, jerk-off.

  Davey leaned in a little closer to Gina, who stood up suddenly. She said something to the people she’d been talking to earlier, then caught Meg’s eye and gave her a smile and wave before she left the circle, probably on her way to her room.

  Meg waved back, and thought about summer crushes and how they could come out of nowhere and leave you unsettled and uncertain. After all, she wasn’t even sure Gina was into women. For all she knew, she had a boyfriend stashed away in California, and she’d be using a calling card on the ranch’s land line to call him every chance she got. Or maybe she was into women but had a girlfriend, a reporter like her, and they talked to each other about all the places they’d visited and all the stories they’d published.

  She frowned at the flames, and frowned harder at Davey, who was watching Gina walk across the parking lot.

  What the hell was she thinking? She was just a college student who grew up on a ranch in Wyoming.

  Nothing fancy. Nothing showy. Kind of a loner. Not much of a chance with someone like a hotshot reporter out of Los Angeles. Though it looked like Davey didn’t have a shot, either, which helped a little. That would suck, if anything developed between Gina and Davey. She stood and said her good nights as well. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day and she needed to get some sleep.

  The next day involved getting fifteen new guests settled, helping both Davey and Jackson saddle horses for trail rides, feeding and watering several others, and playing gopher for Stan. She hadn’t seen Gina all morning, which was probably a good thing, since Gina was a big distraction.