From the Boots Up Page 7

  She nodded, trying not to look as if she was staring, though she was.

  “See you at dinner.” She left Meg with one of her enigmatic little smiles and Meg watched her walk away, not sure what just happened on the one hand and not sure if anything actually did on the other.

  She chewed her lip. And then caught herself. Yes, she had a crush. Okay, maybe a serious attraction. But that was no excuse for not maintaining a professional demeanor. Especially since she’d just ragged on Davey. She thought back on the conversation and relaxed a little. She hadn’t been flirting. At least not consciously. Maybe a little toward the end, but nothing at all like what Davey pulled.

  Meg stared down at the dogs, who were engaged in the important canine pursuit of wrestling in the dirt. She glanced at the office, across the parking area. What the hell was she thinking? Guests were off-limits.

  But what about after Gina left the ranch?

  Dumb idea. Gina would go back to California and that would be the end of it. She turned and rested her head against the wooden rail of the paddock, warm and dry on her skin. There was no way that anything would happen between them. Even if Gina was interested—and Meg had no evidence she was—there was just no way it could happen.

  But damn, Gina moved her.

  Meg sighed and went to the lodge. She had to find a way to let this go.

  Damn.

  Six

  A full house at the Diamond Rock meant little room to do any kind of fraternizing other than a quick howdy, which was a good thing, Meg decided, because she was too busy to let Gina really distract her. Though all Meg had to do was see her, and she got distracted.

  Or thought even more about her.

  She needed to be even busier.

  Especially since Gina caught both Stan and Meg on Tuesday for a thirty-minute sit-down. Much to Meg’s relief, her crush didn’t show. She hoped. At least Stan seemed pleased after Gina left.

  “That’s my girl,” he said to her. “Thanks, hon.”

  “I told you it would be all right.” She’d replied, and then she left to work an afternoon trail ride. Before she knew it, the Tuesday bonfire was winding down and guests were straggling to their rooms, Wyoming nightfall as company.

  “I’ve got this, Meg. Go on and have some down time.” Jackson gave her a nod as he worked on putting the fire out.

  “Thanks.” She left the pit area and walked around the dining hall to the parking area. The lights were off at the office, so her dad was done for the evening, too. She glanced at the second level of the motel, at what she knew was the door to room five. A light was on behind the room’s window. Maybe Gina was writing, and that’s why she’d left the fire early.

  She stared at the window a few more seconds, thinking that Gina would be gone come Friday, which definitely put a damper on her birthday. Shit, she’d been so busy, she’d forgotten her birthday until just now. Maybe she could get Gina to stay an extra night and have a piece of cake. Oh, my God. How lame did that sound? How old was she? Ten?

  Maybe she could ask for her phone number, since she’d probably do follow-up for her story. No, that might be too obvious. Gina had the ranch phone number, and that’s what she’d call. She didn’t even have a good excuse to get her number.

  Why did she keep trying to make a story where there wasn’t one?

  She had forgotten to check something at the office and started walking toward it, past the cars lined up in the designated parking area. She recognized the shape of Gina’s Pathfinder, and it made her think about last Wednesday, and about a woman who wasn’t afraid to get her jeans dirty.

  She went into the office, flipped the light switch, and found the paper on her dad’s desk that was his list of supplies. She added a couple of things to it and placed it on his keyboard, where he’d be sure to see it in the morning.

  Done, she turned the light off and shut the door behind her. She heard the scrape of footsteps in the dirt.

  “Hey,” Gina said from the dark. “I thought that was you.”

  “Yep. A woman’s work, you know. Never done.” Her voice sounded steady, thankfully. “Did you need to use the phone or something?”

  “Nope. I was actually admiring the stars. And thinking about that Dixie Chicks song, ‘Wide Open Spaces’.”

  Meg thought she saw her grin, and caught a flash of her teeth. “Love the Chicks. So you’re out watching the stars and. . .?”

  “And I found the best place to do that is on the hood of my car,” Gina added.

  “So you’re out here in the parking lot sitting on your car, looking at stars. A likely story. I think you’re trying to crack an antelope trafficking ring.”

  She laughed, warm and rich, and Meg wanted to bottle that sound, and keep it on a shelf in her bedroom.

  “Definitely can’t put one over on you,” Gina said. “So far, no evidence of trafficking. But the stars are awesome. One of my least favorite things about L.A. is the light pollution. And the air pollution. And the traffic.”

  “That’s three least favorite things.” Her eyes had adjusted, and she could just make out Gina’s features.

  “One. Three. Close enough. So since you’re here, what’s the craziest thing that’s happened at the Diamond Rock?”

  “On or off the record?”

  “Both.”

  Meg hesitated. So many sparks were shooting up and down her spine that she was surprised she wasn’t glowing. Was it really a good idea to talk with Gina, out here in the dark under a star-filled sky? No. Hell, no. “I’ll tell you, but only if I get to ask some questions, too.” Oops.

  “Deal.”

  She thought fast. How to mitigate the damage she had just inflicted on her psyche? Ah. Go somewhere that would remind her to stay professional. “Might as well get comfortable. There’s a bench outside the office.”

  “And there’s the hood of my car.”

  Shit.

  “I don’t get to see starry skies like this very often. Cut a girl a break?”

  Damn. “Okay.”

  She waited for Gina to get on the hood of her Pathfinder first, watched her lean back against the windshield, and knew she was in some serious trouble as she put her boot on the bumper and climbed up next to her.

  But she’d never let it show.

  And she didn’t, but when she reluctantly slid off the Pathfinder’s hood an hour later, she wished for the millionth time that Gina wasn’t a guest and that she wasn’t the reporter assigned to come out here. Why, Meg thought as she went to her rooms, can’t she be Forest Service? Or BLM? Or anybody else?

  And as she lay on her bed staring into the dark, she realized she still didn’t know whether Gina was into women or whether she was involved with anyone. Those were the kinds of questions that were unprofessional, so she hadn’t asked, and Gina hadn’t asked her, either. No, she’d kept the conversation to the ranch and local culture and Meg had asked her why she’d chosen journalism and the kinds of stories she’d done.

  Professional.

  Polite.

  But a little deeper, maybe, because it felt like the kind of conversation you might have with someone before you asked them out for coffee. Then dinner. Even though Gina hadn’t said anything that could overtly be considered flirtatious, hadn’t pried into her personal life, hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend, girlfriend, or even an ex.

  In spite of that, it still felt like a pre-date audition.

  Meg groaned and rolled over. Would it be weird to ask her out after the story was published? Maybe that was safest, because journalists, too, had to deal with ethical codes when they were writing stories. She caught herself. How stupid was that, to call someone up in Los Angeles and invite her out for coffee? There were a lot of miles between Wyoming and the West Coast. And the distance wasn’t just geographic.

  Hot shot journalist.

  Loner rancher.

  That was a distance all its own.

  So she’d do professional for three more days, and then nurse this damn crush until it fa
ded and she’d start school in August and she’d get too busy to remember it. She fell asleep, fortified with fresh resolve.

  “So have you had a chance to talk to Gina one-on-one?”

  Meg looked over at Alice, the glass of tea she held hovering at her lips, and hoped nothing showed on her face. “For the story?” And when had Alice gotten on a first-name basis with her?

  “And whatever else.”

  “A little bit.” She drained the glass and walked it to the dishwashing room.

  “She’s good people,” Alice said as she opened the industrial-sized bread oven to check her rolls when Meg returned.

  She shrugged and waited for Alice to close the oven door before she moved past her. “So you think she’ll do a good story on the ranch?”

  “I know she will.” She opened the oven beneath the burners and the aroma of roasted pork wafted into the heat of the kitchen. “Has she given you her phone number?”

  Meg stopped breathing. “Um.” She started breathing again. “No.”

  “Remind her.” Alice looked over at her. “For follow-up.”

  “I figured she’s got the ranch line, so she’d call us,” she managed.

  “Honey, you have got to learn how to network better. She’s a good contact for the ranch.”

  She hoped her sigh of relief wasn’t audible. “Then dad’s probably got it.”

  “Cover your bases. Get her number.”

  “I’ll check with dad.”

  “She’s also a good connection for you. So you should have her number, too.”

  Meg laughed nervously. “You sound like you’re trying to set us up or something.”

  She gave Meg a mischievous little smile. “And would that be a bad thing?”

  Busted. Her neck blazed with the flush she knew was spreading to her face. Shit. She dropped her gaze to the floor, glad she and Alice were the only ones in the kitchen.

  “Sweetie, I’ve practically watched you grow up. I saw this one coming a mile away.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “No. So don’t worry.”

  She shoved her hands into her pockets. How the hell did Alice always figure this shit out? “It’s just a crush. It’ll go away.”

  “Or you could get her number and see where it goes.”

  “She’s a guest.”

  Alice gave her a “so what” shrug.

  “And she’s the reporter that dad worked hard to get here.”

  “And?”

  “No fraternization.”

  “Oh, for—” Alice stared at her. “There’s fraternization and then there’s genuine attraction. You, my dear, are clearly in the throes of the latter.”

  “It’s still complicated.”

  “Because of your dad? Because of coming out? Because she’ll be leaving in a couple of days?”

  Meg nodded. “All of the above. And because of what she’s doing here.”

  “Ah. It would look improper in terms of the story.”

  “Something like that. Journalistic ethics.”

  “You’re not the subject of the story. She might quote you and she’ll probably mention you, but the gist of this story comes from your dad and her own impressions of the ranch.”

  “I’m just trying to be professional.”

  Alice gave her a hug. “And you are. You have been the whole time she’s been here. So has she. And there’s nothing wrong with waiting until she leaves to follow up.”

  “I don’t even know if she’s single or even if she’s gay,” Meg said against Alice’s shoulder.

  “Well, I understand why you haven’t asked. That’s very professional of you.” She released her and squeezed her shoulders. “All the more reason to get her number before she leaves.” She gave her another mischievous smile. “And it’s yes to both those questions.”

  Meg stared. “How—”

  “It’s how you ask certain questions.”

  “Is that part of your art of diplomacy?”

  Alice didn’t answer. She instead kissed her on the forehead.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, hopeful.

  She gave her a “you’re questioning the Kitchen Queen?” look.

  “All right, all right.”

  “Get her phone number,” Alice said.

  “Maybe.” But Alice’s information put a whole other layer onto her crush.

  She smiled. “Think about it. In the meantime, what kind of birthday cake would you like?”

  “Whatever you decide to make will be awesome,” she said, but the last thing on her mind was her birthday.

  She studied her face for a few moments. “It’ll be all right.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I know so. Now go entertain your fan base. I hear Samantha Forster thinks you’re quite the cowgirl.”

  She smiled. “She thinks everybody here is a cowboy or cowgirl.” She turned to go then caught herself. “Thanks.”

  “Any time.”

  Meg left through the back door and headed for the office. She needed to check in with her dad and then help get an afternoon trail ride group together. Anything to not think about the fact that Alice had totally busted her about Gina. And found out that Gina was available. She stopped. Had Alice told Gina anything about her? She started walking again. No, she wouldn’t do that. Instead, she passed some information on to Meg, and it was up to her to do something with it. Too bad she was a coward about things like this.

  Meg settled onto a log near the bonfire that evening. A few minutes later, Marjorie joined her.

  “I love it here,” she said.

  Meg smiled at her. “I’m so glad. Hopefully we’ll see you again.”

  “Count on it.”

  “Tell all your friends.”

  “I just might.” She sighed contentedly and stared into the flames. A few of the other guests greeted her and Meg as they found places to sit or stand. A few carried cups of hot drinks. Meg yawned and stretched her legs out. Long day, she thought. But not long enough because the day after tomorrow was Friday, and Gina’s last day. She thought again about what Alice had told her in the kitchen earlier and it made her heart pound a little faster.

  “Hi,” Marjorie said to someone in greeting.

  “Spare any room?”

  Meg snapped to attention and Gina smiled at her.

  “Of course.” Marjorie moved to her left, closer to Meg, and Gina sat down to Marjorie’s right. “How’s the story coming?” she asked Gina.

  “Just about done.”

  “Hi, Gina!” Samantha skipped up to her. “Did Meg tell you what we did after dinner?”

  Gina glanced over at Meg, then back to Samantha. “No, she didn’t. But I just got here. What cool things did you do?”

  She leaned in, like she was sharing a secret. “She took us snipe hunting,” she said, eyes wide.

  “She did?” Gina’s jaw twitched with suppressed laughter. “Did you catch any?”

  “No, but we heard a couple.”

  Marjorie looked at Meg, puzzled, and Meg mouthed “later” to her.

  “What did they sound like?” Gina asked.

  Samantha hesitated, thinking. “They kind of grunted.” She made a noise that was half-snort, half-grunt and Marjorie laughed.

  “That’s pretty good,” Meg said, keeping a straight face. “Do you think you know what they look like?”

  “Bigger than a jackalope, but smaller than a coyote,” she said, with a certainty that only a little girl’s imagination could provide.

  “I’ll bet you’re right. Did you get a picture of any?” Gina asked.

  “No. It was too dark. But I’ll draw you one tomorrow.”

  “That would be cool.”

  “Hi, Marjorie,” Samantha said. Then she went up to Meg, a little shy. “Thanks for taking us.”

  “You bet. You’ll be a cowgirl in no time.”

  She smiled, gave Meg’s legs a quick hug, and ran to the other side of the fire, where her mom stood.

  “Looks like s
omebody’s got a crush on you,” Marjorie teased.

  “I’d have to agree.” Gina leaned forward a little so she could better see Meg, and Meg wished Marjorie was talking about Gina.

  “She just likes cowgirls.”

  “I think she likes one in particular,” Marjorie said. “And it’s easy to see why.”

  Meg shrugged. “I’m just me.”

  “And a fine me it is,” she said with a smile. “So what is a snipe?”

  Gina caught Meg’s eye and they both laughed.

  “It’s a joke,” Meg said. “Something you do with newcomers or kids. You take them out snipe hunting and get ’em to believe that there’s an animal out there and maybe they can catch it if they try.”

  “My brothers told me snipe were birds,” Gina said. “I was all proud when I showed them a picture in a birder book of an actual snipe. They told me that these were different snipe, and they looked like quail but they had teeth.”

  Marjorie laughed. “Oh, my.”

  “But you can’t tell anyone,” Meg said. “Because the kids always have fun when we do a snipe hunt.”

  “Oh, my,” she said again, still chuckling. “I’m glad I found this out.”

  “Definitely,” Gina said. “So if anyone tries to take you on one, you can tell them that you caught a snipe in Wyoming once, but you let it go for the next hunt.”

  “You know, my dad told me not to take you on any snipe hunts,” Meg said to her. “Guess he figured you might be a little green.”

  Gina raised her eyebrows. “I’ll have you know, I’ve done my fair share of snipe-hunting.”

  “Is that really something you should admit?” Marjorie asked, an innocent expression on her face.

  She laughed. “Let me rephrase. My first snipe hunt was the joke on me. Then I, of course, instigated many of the follow-ups.”

  “So you’re an instigator,” Meg said, glad Marjorie was there as sort of a conversational foil.

  Gina gave her a quick smile, like the first one she’d ever directed at Meg, in the parking lot of the feed store. “Depends on the situation.”

  Meg started to reply, remembered her conversation with Alice earlier that day, and stopped herself. Too close to flirting and she definitely did not want to get carried away. Marjorie broke in, fortunately.