Chapter 8
Back at the stables, with most of the herd safely in close winter pastures, Erik watched as Layne removed the saddle and bridle from Blaze and brushed her down. She refused his offer to have a wrangler care for the horse, telling him that he could watch and advise, if needed. But, she thought with a smile, neither he nor a wrangler was needed.
A few of the cowboys elected to camp overnight and resume their search for the remaining stragglers in the morning, while the other wranglers chose to return to their homes elsewhere. “I’m assuming, since Blaze is put away, that we aren’t going to camp out tonight.” Erik smiled at Layne as they walked to the house. “Am I correct?”
“Oh! I guess I wasn’t thinking,” Layne replied. “Since the other boys were taking care of their horses, I just figured we were finished for the day, so I took care of her too.”
She stopped and took his hand. “I’m game if you are,” she said. “I’m willing to get the entire American cowboy experience. Although,” she added, “I’ll readily admit that a warm soak in that swimming pool off my bedroom — you know, the one you refer to as a bathtub — is extremely inviting.”
“I have no doubt that you’re willing to camp out,” Erik said, “and if you’ll promise me a rain check, we can do it some other time. Is that okay with you?”
Layne met his smile with her own. “Yup, fine with me. Sounds like fun.” Sharing a sleeping bag would certainly be a new experience. She held that image, snuggled against Erik in a warm bag, as long as she could.
Back in the house, Erik went his way to shower and Layne went hers. As she plopped down on the edge of her bed to work her boots off, she realized how tired she really was. She resisted the almost overwhelming urge to lie back and stretch out, full-length, fearing sleep would come immediately.
Once the boots were off, socks, shirt, jeans, bra, and panties followed quickly. She went directly to the bathroom and turned the faucets on in the shower. No need for the shower cap this time. A shampoo of her dusty, wind-blown chestnut hair, followed by a long, leisurely soak in the garden tub for her complaining muscles, was all she wanted now.
Later, rejuvenated, Layne slowly descended the winding staircase. Her hair was brushed to a gorgeous sheen, and she was wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe, accentuated by bunny-rabbit slippers, both found in a bedroom closet. A total fashion statement.
She found Erik in the kitchen, pouring himself a cocktail. He looked up with a smile at her approach.
“Cheap wine or a cocktail?” he asked, holding up a glass in one hand and a wine goblet in the other. “I’ve got both.”
“How’s your supply of vodka?”
“Unopened bottle.”
“Got any olives?” Layne asked.
“Full jar.”
“Willing to open the unopened bottle?” Layne raised a brow.
“Absolutely.”
“Then,” she replied, “I will have a dirty martini.”
“I’m not sure this will matter to you, but I don’t have cheap vodka.” Erik grinned.
“Cheap, as it pertains to me,” Layne answered with her own grin, “refers only to wine.” The deliciously relaxing soak in the garden tub got her off to a good start, and a good stiff drink was just what she needed to finish off the entire process.
She watched as Erik opened the vodka, noting that the label was unfamiliar, and therefore must be expensive. She silently vowed not to ask. He poured a jigger full into a cooled mixer, added a splash of olive juice and shook it vigorously before pouring it into the glass. Two olives, dropped in, completed the concoction.
Layne’s first sip produced a wide-eyed, shuddering reaction. “Oh my,” she coughed. “I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I’d go easy on those,” he said. “They kind of sneak up on a person.”
Layne took another tentative sip. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I can see where that could happen.” She followed Erik into the living room, a room of log and stone, filled with leather furniture. A rancher’s home, to be sure. Rough and rugged, and yet, she felt a comfort, a belonging in this man’s domain.
She joined Erik on the couch, drawing her leg up under her until she noticed — with only her thick terrycloth robe covering her, a revealing portion of her thigh, high on her thigh — she’d exposed enough skin to be a magnet for Erik’s eyes. She slowly pulled the material down to cover herself, just slow enough to tantalize him. And she did it on purpose.
Erik pretended not to notice, but his eyes gave him away. They locked on the target like a laser-guided missile. He shifted on the couch, restless, forcing his eyes away from the exposed, tempting flesh. “Why don’t I get us something to eat?” he said, quickly rising from the couch. “Anything sound good to you?”
“Actually, I’m so hungry I could eat anything you placed in front of me,” she replied, taking the last sip of her martini and joining him as he went into the kitchen. “There’s got to be some leftovers somewhere.”
Working side by side, they concocted a decent meal of leftover prime rib slices, baked potato, packaged gravy mix, and salad. Layne marveled at how normal the evening seemed to be as they loaded the dishwasher and put other things away.
Later, returning to the spacious living room, they again sat side by side on the couch, although this time Layne made sure the robe covered what it was supposed to cover.
Erik took a sip of his after-dinner cocktail, then set it upon an end table beside him. “I’m sorry I made you, and your friend, what is her name?
“Barb,” Layne replied, taking a sip of her second martini.
“Right, Barb. Anyway,” he continued, “I’m sorry I made you gals quit your jobs. I think I could get them back for you. Would you like me to talk to Wellington?”
Layne leaned toward Erik to lay her hand on his arm. She was no longer afraid to touch him, although it continued to do funny things to her breathing and heart rate. “Actually, the way things have turned out, we need to thank you. We’re quite happy in our own practice, and if it were not for you,” she said, “this would never have happened.”
“At one time, I think you told me that you’re limiting your practice to women. Is this still true?”
“That’s our plan, and so far, that’s the way things are going.”
“So I can’t talk you into helping me gain custody of my niece?”
Oh, bombshell! This little problem had been tucked away in a far, far corner of Layne’s memory, so far that it had been almost completely forgotten. “Well,” she said, searching for the right words, “I guess that would leave me out, wouldn’t it? Mr. Wellington might have a few people willing to help.” She cast Erik a sideways glance. “Are you thinking of starting proceedings?”
“Soon.” Erik nodded. “I think once our barbecue is finished, I’ll be ready.” He shifted positions on the couch, and now could look directly at Layne. “I’m just starting to get all my ducks lined up in a row.”
Layne was on high alert. This was an issue she had to tiptoe into and around. Where did she stand legally and personally, discussing this with Erik without his knowledge of her position or reasons behind her inquiries? There were questions to be asked however, and she figured that was a chance she had to take.
“Speaking of remembering correctly, I think you told me that your sister’s husband grew up somewhere in Louisiana? Chesterville, or something like that?”
“You’ve got a good memory,” Erik said, impressed, “but yeah, it was Chesterville.”
“And your sister’s married name was . . .?”
“Gerhardt. Rhonda Gerhardt. His name was Bill. William, actually.”
“What is your niece’s name?”
“Lucy. She’d be close to six now.”
“Have you seen her at all since the accident?”
Erik shook his head. “No.”
“Is she being kept from you on purpose?”
“No, I’m sure it’s just the way things have worked out.” He cast Layne a sad glance. “I guess I should’ve tried harder, but I felt I was too busy, having to go back to school to learn how to get the ranch off the ground.”
“Why do you want her now? Do you think you’re ready for a little six-year-old girl?”
He studied Layne for a moment. “Well, I certainly wasn’t ready before, but I think I am now. Maybe having a little girl will help me find a wife.”
Layne shot him an incredulous look. “What?” she blurted. “Are you crazy? If all you want is a warm female body beside you in bed, put an ad in the paper, for God’s sake! You’ll have thousands of responses the next morning! But,” she continued in a more controlled, calmer manner, “when you find a woman you cannot live without, a woman you yearn for the moment she’s out of your sight, a woman who is constantly in your thoughts, a woman who makes your heart leap each and every time you see her, and Lord help you if you touch her, that is the gal you should marry, not merely a female body to be a mother to your niece! The niece is not the important person here. You and the woman you fall in love with and marry, you’re the important ones! The child is secondary.”
Erik continued to stare at Layne, digesting her impassioned speech. “I guess I put the cart before the horse there, didn’t I? I should have a wife first, I suppose.”
Now it was Layne’s turn to study him, but how could she? Her mind was a muddled mess. She could be the wife he wanted, the wife he needed! But the verbal contract between the Callaway woman and herself was binding. If things came to a court battle, she was sworn to represent the grandmother. “I think a wife would be in your favor for custody of the child, Erik,” she confessed, “but don’t just marry someone off the street. Wait for the right woman, wait for the one you cannot even think about living without!”
“I think it won’t matter if I’m married. I mean, the grandmother is a single lady, I’m a single uncle. What’s the difference?”
“I think one difference is the fact that the grandmother has custody of the child. She’s apparently supplying the child with a good, loving home. Would the court wish to change that?”
“So you’re saying that possession is nine tenths of the law in this sort of thing?”
“That situation could possible sway the judge’s opinion, I suppose,” Layne replied, choosing her words carefully. She was caught directly in the middle.
“I think I’d better put my money to good use and hire a few good attorneys.”
Another bombshell! Layne’s head was beginning to throb. She’d had enough. “Well,” she said, stretching her arms high over her head, “we’ve got another early day tomorrow, don’t we? I’d better get my beauty sleep, so I don’t scare any of the cowboys in the morning.”
Erik laughed, tearing his eyes away from the swell of Layne’s breasts tight against her robe. “Not as early as this morning,” he answered. “We can sleep in a little.”
Thank God! “When can I expect your good morning attack at my door?”
“Oh, five-thirty, quarter to six. Somewhere around there.”
Good grief! “Okay, I’ll see you then.” Layne got up from the couch and gave Erik a sweet kiss on his cheek. “This carriage is going to turn into a pumpkin pretty soon. I’ve got to go.” The temptation to kiss his lips almost won the battle, but she passed it by. She didn’t want to scare him away and possibly ruin their friendship. What a friggin’ poor excuse.
Erik rose from the couch and solved her problem. “What, don’t good friends kiss on the lips? Don’t think I didn’t love your kiss on my cheek, but we should try it on the lips sometime. We may like it.”
Layne stopped and turned to him, her heart rate increasing at the thought. “I, um, guess we could try it,” Oh jeez, Pandora’s Box. Layne hesitated, taking a step toward him.
Erik took the final step and closed the gap, gently cupping her face in his hands. He pulled back a little as his eyes searched hers. “You’re sure this is okay?” he whispered.
Layne gave a short nod. Yes, it was okay! She raised her mouth to his, savoring the touch of his lips. It was merely a gentle brushing of their lips at first, but when Layne ran her hands up Erik’s chest and over his shoulders, finally clasping the back of his head and drawing their mouths firmly together, all barriers were broken. And Pandora’s Box was opened, indeed.
The unfamiliar sensation of Erik’s lips on hers, soft and gentle at first, slowly grew in insistence, throwing out any notion of a quick, friendly goodnight peck. Layne molded herself into his body and pulled him closer when she sensed the slightest resistance in his embrace.
That was all Erik needed to know. He felt he’d gone too far, too fast, thus his attempt to back away.
But Layne was having none of this. She’d welcomed it, insisted on it, and pulled him back. She could feel his erection growing against her, filling her with a long-forgotten thrill and latent unfulfilled need. Erik’s hands left Layne’s face and slid down the terrycloth covering her breasts, to clasp her waist and pull her even closer. His lips left hers and traced a line of gentle kisses down her neckline as his fingers untied the robe belt, allowing it to open and hang freely. Her soft moan encouraged his hands to slip inside the fabric to cup and caress her breasts before sliding up to her shoulders, causing the robe to fall to the floor.
Erik lifted her, and cradled in his arms, carried her to his bedroom and gently laid her upon the bed. She watched through hooded eyes as he removed his clothing and lay beside her. The few times Layne had seen him scantily dressed had been in his workout attire, but undressing in front of her, and now, naked beside her, she was virtually amazed at his perfect male body, big in all the places that counted.
He reached over and drew lazy circles on her tummy, circling her navel before traveling down to explore the warm flesh between her legs. Layne rolled to her side and put her hand on Erik’s chest before shyly moving down his stomach to stroke her fingers through his curly hair.
“Do you have protection?” Layne whispered.
Erik turned and met Layne’s eyes. “No. Do we need it?” he said quietly.
“It’s a really bad time for me, Erik.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I think,” he finally said, leaning down to gently kiss her nipple, “we’ve gone a little too far.” He pulled away and lay on his side, resting his head on his hand. “Things got a bit out of hand. I’m sorry.”
“But can’t you, you know”—Layne shrugged—“pull out when the time comes?”
Erik cast her a wry smile. “No,” he replied. “There’s no way on God’s green Earth that that’s ever going to happen. I’m not that strong. It’s a chance we can’t take.” He slid his legs to the side of the bed and stood up, then walked around the bed to sit by Layne’s side. “Look,” he said gently, “I didn’t invite you to the roundup just so this could happen. It was completely spontaneous, and I apologize for my part in it.”
Layne reached for his hand and squeezed it. “It’s no one’s fault, it just happened,” she said. Never, ever, had she reacted so quickly, so fully to a simple, undemanding kiss. And never, ever had she reacted to any man as she did with Erik, and never, ever had she wanted a man as much as she wanted Erik a minute or two before.
And now, she suddenly realized, noting Erik’s still-full erection, that she was lying beside him completely naked. “Um,” she started, not knowing exactly what to say, “I don’t remember exactly where I left my robe.”
“It’s downstairs. I’ll get it.” He quickly dressed, and as he left the room, Layne padded into the bathroom and wrapped herself in a towel to await his return.
~ ~ ~
Later, as Layne lay in her own bed, she stared at the far wall for many, many minutes, reliving what might have happened, not sure if she was happy or sad.
Erik tossed in his bed. “Well, that’s a first,” he muttered, before falling into a troubled sleep.
~ ~ ~
The sharp rap on the door jarred her. For a brief moment, Layne couldn’t get her bearings through the fog of sleep. Once the clouds were swept away, she swung her long legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Well, at least she tried to stand up. She immediately plopped back down on the edge of her bed, painfully aware of a myriad of stiff, tight muscles. What on Earth had happened? All she’d done all day was sit on a horse. Oh wait, that part was probably the sorest of all . . .
Later, now dressed for another day in the saddle, she slowly descended the long staircase, not sure which muscles would fail her first. She thought her butt and legs were winning.
Erik had been sitting on the couch in the living room, and met her at the staircase landing. “Good morning,” he said, hesitantly putting his arms around Layne. “Is a good-morning hug permissible?”
“I think, if we’re careful, it would be okay. No good-morning kiss, however.”
“Yeah, for sure,” Erik agreed. “No friendly kiss of any sort. We have to practice shaking hands, I guess.” His smile turned serious. “Layne, I’m terribly sorry for losing control last night. That’s really not my style, and I hope you can forgive me.”
“Nor is it my style,” Layne replied. “It was just as much my fault as yours. I’m sorry, and I certainly forgive you, but I need your forgiveness too.”
Erik wondered if he should remind her that friends don’t need to say they’re sorry, but thought better of it. “Well, if you think there’s equal blame, then I forgive you too.” But, oh my God, standing this close to her, he ached with wanting to feel his hands on her warm flesh and her lips on his again! “Is this going to change anything between us? I mean, we’ll still be friends, right?”
“Absolutely!” Layne smiled. “If we weren’t, I’d probably have to give Blaze back, and that would break my heart.”
And you’d have to give back my heart, and that would shatter it into tiny pieces, Erik thought. “Well, let’s get some fuel in us,” he said, tearing his eyes away from Layne’s face to wash away the almost overwhelming desire to embrace her again. “Hope you can stand the same old thing, eggs, sausage, potatoes, toast, whatever?”
A picture of the future flashed through Layne’s mind, a rather unflattering one. She was only a year or two older, but weighed in at around three hundred and fifty pounds.
“Um,” she started, “I can’t continue . . .” A realization stopped her short. What made her think she was going to continue eating with this man? This could possibly be her final meal with him. The dreaded picture of Joyce Callaway, seated at the table with Erik, shot into her mind. She shook her head vigorously, trying to wipe it away.
“Is something the matter?” Erik asked, somewhat alarmed, noting the shake of her head.
“No, just loosening a few neck muscles,” Layne lied, swiveling her head again for emphasis. Another thought followed as the Joyce image washed away, only to quickly return. Had they had sex last night, although Joyce said they hadn’t, would Erik be comparing them? Who was the better? And the better of how many? The most exciting? And the most exciting of how many? Those realizations flooded through her. Thankfully, they did not have sex. She did not wish to be compared to anyone, nor did she wish to be a number in anyone’s string of conquests. She needed the day to sort through her thoughts.
“Erik,” she said, “would you mind terribly if I backed out today?”
He looked at Layne with compassion. “Because of last night?” He took a step closer and enclosed her in a gentle hug. “Is that why?”
“No.” And that was more truth than not. She’d wanted him, ached for him last night. But that was last night. Today was another day, and the reality was, although Erik denied it, she had absolutely no idea of Erik’s relationship with Joyce Callaway. Until that was cleared up, a relationship of friends with benefits was out of the question. No way. “Actually, I can’t believe I’m this sore and stiff. A long soak in a hot tub sounds wonderful, and really, that’s what I want to do.”
“You can do that here,” he said, relaxing his hug and looking down at her. “I’ve got a couple of beautiful tubs you can soak in all day long, if you want.”
“Thank you, but I think my own tub will be better for me right now.” She pulled back enough to reach up and caress his face. “I truly, truly hope you don’t think of me as a wuss. I enjoyed every single minute of being here, and I’m so thankful you invited me to take part. And,” she continued, still cupping his face, “this has absolutely nothing to do with what happened last night. Absolutely nothing.” She realized that was a bit of a stretch. It had a lot to do with their almost-sex experience, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.
Erik realized further argument would be fruitless, so he gave her a short, tight squeeze before releasing her. “A wuss is the very last thing I’d call you. You’re a cowgirl in every sense of the word, and I mean that as a very sincere compliment. You can ride with the boys and me any time.”
Later, Erik loaded Layne’s suitcase into her car and with a final wave, watched her drive away. As he watched her drive around the last bend in the road, his mind wandered back to the events of the night. Had he gone too far? Had he forever ruined his chances with her? What was standing in their way, what was holding her back? His heart was certainly in the right place, but what was keeping her heart locked in the Friendship Zone?
~ ~ ~
“Hey, lazybones, you gonna stay in the tub all day? You’re gonna look like a prune!” Barb walked into the bathroom and stood by the tub. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “You are a prune!”
Layne sat upright from her lounging position against the back of the tub. “I know, I know,” she replied, wincing slightly as she shifted positions again. “My plan is to be out of here by noon. What time is it?”
Barb glanced at her watch. “You’ve got seven minutes, if you meant what you said about being out by noon.”
The long soak in the hot tub was worth every minute. The soreness had disappeared from her butt, and actually that had been the only real sore spot. All else seemed to be okay or close to it. As she told Erik, she’d enjoyed the entire time with him—and yes, truth be told—also everything leading up to and including The Almost act. And again, truth be told—under a certain circumstance, such as removal of the Callaway woman from the mix, she would have loved, insisted upon, completion of The . . .
Stop! Stop! Stop! Drop it! Leave it alone!
~ ~ ~
It had been a week since the roundup, and Layne had not heard from Erik, not that she expected to. At least that was what she told herself, more than once. With all the talk and excitement concerning Erik River’s annual barbecue, she was concerned because she’d received no invitation and it was scheduled for the weekend after next.
And then it came. A plain mimeographed postcard addressed to both Layne and Barb was buried in a stack of mail tossed on Barb’s desk by the mail lady. Layne heard Barb’s yelp of excitement when she discovered it.
“Hey, guess what?” Barb said, sticking her head into Layne’s office. “We got an invitation to River’s party!”
Finally! “Great,” Layne replied as nonchalantly as possible. Why did he wait so damn long? “Wanna go?”
“Do I want to go?” Barb shot back. “Of course I want to go. The place will be full of single guys, for Pete’s sake!” She studied the postcard. “Barbecues are casual dress, right?”
“As far as I know. What do you think you’ll wear?”
“Not sure yet,” Barb replied, twirling around with a square-dance step, “but for sure something that’s gonna catch some guy’s eye.” She stopped in front of Layne’s cluttered desk. “How about you? What are you thinking of?”
Layne shook her head. “Not sure yet. If it’s going to be hot, maybe a simple sundress or something like that. If it’s cool, then maybe slacks and blouse. I really haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Again Barb studied Layne with an accusing eye. “I think Erik could have sent you a personal invitation, rather than merely a mimeographed postcard.”
Layne shrugged. “I’m sure it’s a busy time for him, and then too, he probably had lots to do after roundup. The ranch doesn’t run itself, you know.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Barb agreed. “But after you told me about what happened, or almost happened, as you cross your heart and hope to die and swear to God is the truth, you’d think he could at least call or something.”
“Barb,” Layne said in exasperation, “he’s a busy man. Okay?”
“Right,” Barb agreed, as if realizing she’d pushed things to the limit and it was time to back off. “I’m going to start a list of choices. What to wear, what to wear?” she said, leaving Layne’s office.
As Layne watched her depart, her thoughts turned to Barb’s words. He could have called. Why hadn’t he called? What was so difficult about punching a few numbers into his cell phone and calling?
~ ~ ~
Layne poked her head into Barb’s bedroom. It was an O.M.G. moment. The bed was piled high with layers of clothing, sorted into piles of jeans, skirts, sweaters, and blouses. Neatly lined up at the side of the bed were shoes, boots, and sundry footwear separated in various colors and styles.
“Holy crap, what bomb went off in here?” Layne exclaimed, surveying the explosive mess as she stood in the doorway. “All this for the barbecue?”
Barb gave an exasperated nod. “Help me,” she pleaded. “I don’t know what to wear at this thing.”
“Well, all I can tell you for sure is to wear comfortable shoes. These things are usually spread out, lots of walking involved. And,” she continued with a grin, “what if some handsome cowboy wants to show you something back behind the barn?”
“So, you’re saying running shoes then?”
“What, running away from the guy or running to the guy?” Layne asked.
“Running to, you idiot, running to.” Barb swept an arm toward the heap. “What about clothes? What color, jeans, dress, or slacks? Tight or loose? What?”
Shaking her head, Layne turned back to her bedroom, leaving Barb to make her own decisions. She realized she had enough of her own problems as she surveyed the massive mound heaped upon her bed. No big hurry, she thought, unless she wanted to sleep tonight. The prospect of hanging all the clothing back on hangers and replacing it in the closet was less than appealing, but it was something that needed to be done, and done soon, like sometime today.
After sorting through the layers of clothing piled on the bed, trying combinations on, taking combinations off, choosing, and then rejecting, footwear, late into the evening, Layne finally made her choices. Nothing fancy. This was only a barbecue, outside, on a ranch. It was not the Grand Ball in the Grand Ballroom. She settled on jeans, a short-sleeve blouse, and cowboy boots.
Bone weary by now, she returned the last of the clothing to the closet and flopped on the bed. She was ready for tomorrow, excited about the barbecue but mostly excited to see Erik again. She missed him, and was more than a little concerned that she’d not heard a word from him since The Almost night.
She awoke around midnight, momentarily disorientated. She’d been dreaming she was naked in Erik’s bed, cradled in his arms, and he was about to kiss her. Slowly, reality worked its way through her hazy brain. She’d fallen asleep, fully clothed, on her bed. She quickly undressed, hating for the sleep cobwebs to be brushed away. She crawled back in and in no time, returned to the warm, wonderful dream of Erik.
~ ~ ~
Layne could hardly contain her excitement as Barb found a parking spot behind a string of cars parked on the side of the entrance road to the ranch.
“God, look at the cars!” she said, sliding out the driver’s side. “Are we late? What time is it?”
“Almost eleven,” Layne answered, checking her watch. “The invitation said close to noon.” She peered down the road toward the ranch and saw the crowd that had gathered. “If anything, we’re early, but holy cow, look at the crowd already!”
Layne waited for Barb to lock the car, then they started toward the festivities. “Do you want to stick together or do you want to wander around on your own?” Layne asked as she surveyed the milling people. “Looks easy to get separated.”
“Well,” Barb replied slowly, “I think you may want to run into Erik, and I might want to run into any man with two legs wearing cowboy boots.” With that, she started out on her own.
How easy it was for her, Layne thought as she watched Barb make a beeline directly for a young, good-looking cowboy and start a conversation. Just go after it, take the bull by the horns.
Layne had a late breakfast, so she wasn’t hungry as she roamed around the ranch, making note of the food preparation areas she could visit later. One thing was for sure: the smell around the barbecue pit area was wonderful. She was walking by, breathing deeply of the delicious odors when she heard her name called.
“Hey, Martin,” a male voice said from behind her, “what are you doing here?”
Layne turned to recognize the office Romeo, Jeffrey Baylor, a middle-aged attorney from Wellington’s office, constantly balancing on the tightrope of sexual harassment. Not her favorite person.
“Well,” she said, failing to temper her sarcastic reply, “strange as it may seem, I’m here to enjoy the barbecue.”
“Oh. Word around the office is that you blew a big deal with Rivers. I’m surprised you were even invited.” Baylor stopped to light a cigarette, then blew a puff of smoke skyward. “Is that why you were fired? The Rivers deal?”
Fired? Ah yes, a juicy rumor. “Actually, Miss Meier and I quit to establish our own practice, and we’re doing quite well.”
Baylor looked at Layne in surprise, momentarily stumped for an answer. “Well,” he finally said, gloating at his one-upmanship, “I had a juicy plum dropped in my lap. I’m sure you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about, but Rivers has a niece, hidden off somewhere with an old lady, and he’s going after full custody. I’m going to be his attorney.”
Bombshell! Layne quickly recovered from the news that she’d almost completely forgotten. Keeping a noncommittal face, she said, “Wow. That is a plum! Is the case scheduled yet?”
“Still workin’ on it,” he replied. “This is gonna mean a pretty big promotion for me!” With those words, he sauntered away with a hop and a skip and disappeared into the milling throng of people.
Layne took a few minutes to digest the man’s words. So, the wheels were starting to turn, she realized, and exactly where did that put her? If the situation proceeded to court, she and Erik would be adversaries, and they could kiss whatever relationship they had or could have had, goodbye. She was bound by her agreement with Callaway.
As Layne wandered about the ranch grounds, stopping to chat with the few people she knew, her mind swam with hypothetical scenarios, none of them good for any relationship with Erik. How on Earth had she gotten herself into this situation? Obviously, had she known Callaway’s relationship with Erik, she never would have agreed to represent her through the grandmother. There was one thing Layne had yet to make clear in her mind: exactly what was the relationship between Erik and Joyce? That was the question that begged an answer.
Layne’s stomach was now telling her that she was ready for food, and she found herself drifting toward the source of the mouth-watering aromas. As she approached the crowd milling around the barbecue pit, she did a double-take, spotting Erik with Joyce Callaway by his side.
A crushing wave of unexpected jealousy washed through her, making her stumble on the rough terrain. She stopped at the edge of the crowd and watched them talking and laughing with another couple. Joyce’s arm was around Erik’s waist, hugging him close. She was dressed in fancy designer jeans, tucked into calf-high embossed boots, a white blouse with rolled-up sleeves, and hair teased into soft waves under a felt cowboy hat.
Layne tore her eyes away. Now she knew. Suddenly, like a major explosion, everything became crystal clear. Erik had stopped before making love to her because he was being faithful to Callaway. Apparently, all this time she was merely a plaything, led on and used! Anger slowly built up within her, making her almost physically sick. She turned and hurried away.
Erik innocently attempted to move out of Joyce’s grip, and in doing so, turned in time to see Layne turn and walk away. He realized she’d been standing with the group near the barbecue pit and certainly had seen Joyce with her arm around him. He was enough of a gentleman not to leave Joyce to pursue Layne, and there was no choice but to watch her walk away without a backward glance. The damage had been done, and right now, there was no way of rectifying it.
~ ~ ~
Layne hurried away from the pit area, searching for Barb, and finally found her down by the stables, talking with a cowboy.
“Barb,” she said, interrupting their conversation, “how much longer do you want to stay? I don’t suppose you’re ready to go yet?” She realized that was probably the dumbest of dumb questions. Barb walk away from a young, handsome wrangler? That wasn’t about to happen.
“Um,” Barb replied, “you want to go? Already?” She glanced at the young man beside her. There was no way she wanted to leave this guy! Looking back at Layne, she said, “Don’t you feel well?”
“Not real well right now,” Layne admitted truthfully, “but I’ll . . .”
“I can give you a lift whenever you want,” the young cowboy offered to Barb.
Barb reached into a pocket for the keys. “Take my car,” she said to Layne before turning to the cowboy. “I’ll take that ride later,” she said, “if you don’t mind.”
The young cowboy returned her smile, and that settled the problem.
Layne took the keys and with thanks, started to walk away. Suddenly she stopped. “If anyone, anyone at all, asks where I am or where I went, you have absolutely no idea. Understand?”
“I understand.” Barb nodded. “I saw them too.”