Jennifer Greene - Conquer the Memories

“I think I could stay here forever.”

Sonia smiled. “And instead you’ll undoubtedly work late again today,” she teased, knowing full well that as important as his land was to Craig, it alone could never keep him satisfied.

“In another week, I hope the long hours will be over. You have plans for the day, honey?”

She nodded absently. “Nothing hard and set, but I thought I’d head into town.” She cocked her head with a wry smile. “Do you realize I’ve barely been off the ranch since we got home? Once to go to work with you, and once for my parents’ party. Lazy is one thing, but this is ridiculous! Charlie’s even taken to doing the grocery shopping. I think,” she added conspiratorially, “that he must have a girl in town.”

She glanced at Craig, expecting him to share the humor of Charlie’s unwonted domestic role, and instead found him staring straight ahead, an oddly tense pulse working in his throat. “Craig?”

He turned to her, his smile so determinedly casual that she relaxed again. “What time do you plan to go into town?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. After lunch, probably. I thought I’d see Marina, window-shop…well. I have every intention of spending a little of your money…” She still couldn’t seem to raise an honest smile. Perplexed, she stared at him.

“Sonia, are you bored?” he asked quietly.

“No, of course not. I’ve never in my life been bored.” She sighed, and with a flick of the reins turned her mare toward home. “It’s just been so long since we’ve really been home,” she admitted softly. “You’re into the project full-time now. I knew that was coming, but I worked with you more before, especially in Washington. There isn’t a darn thing I can do to help you now…”

“You’ve helped every damned step of the way,” he said roughly. When she glanced at him, his voice gentled. “I can more than understand that you’d want time to explore your own…thing. There is time, now, Sonia, and if you really want to work for Marina-”

“Craig, do you want a baby?” Sonia tugged on the reins, slowing Belle to a halt.

Craig stopped, too, studying his wife, picturing her first with a burgeoning tummy and then with a baby in her arms. Both images roused instant loving, protective instincts. Fiercely, he wanted her to bear his child, a child with her loving nature and their blend of strengths and all that future that a baby implied. He wanted her daughter.

He’d settle for her son. And he’d waited a long time for her to ask that soft-spoken question.

But not now.

Sonia didn’t know how his feelings had changed since that incident in Chicago, and he didn’t want her to. The issues were between him and himself, things he had to work out on his own.

A man protected his woman. An archaic instinct, really; machismo was out this decade. Unfortunately, it was engrained in him to the core. At gut level, he had failed her.

Sonia was more fragile than rose petals. She was gregarious and sassy and innately trusting; love bubbled from her as from a never-ending well. He’d risked all of that, in Chicago. A man who’d failed to protect his lady…How could he protect a child?

“Craig?” Sonia was looking at him curiously.

“Do you want a child?” he asked quietly.

Her eyes softened. “When you do.”

He didn’t want either, at the moment. Not a child, and not her working where she was exposed to the public. He wanted her safe. “I want you happy,” he said simply, and stared straight ahead. “Look, see Marina if you want to. Then we’ll talk about it.”

He could feel her confusion; his eyes narrowed deliberately on the stretch of trail ahead. “Listen, lady. I’m about to reclaim my fifty cents. You’ve got to the start of ten to get that lazy mare in motion.”

“Lazy!” Her thighs instantly pressed tightly to Belle, both horse and rider offended at the insult.

Craig trailed her laughter down through the hills, savoring it, cherishing it, his mood lifting with it.

He was going to let her win again. Halfway down the trail, he slowed up long enough to dig a hand in his pocket and make sure he had the dollar she was certain to demand. Sonia was a stickler for paying one’s debts.

So was Craig.

Sonia’s eyebrows lifted in surprise as she neared her Passat. George was standing next to it. He was nearly as much of an institution around Craig’s ranch as Charlie was; he was the best of ranch hands and had been with Craig for years.

He was also about the size of a fairy-tale giant, his leathery skin permanently sun-weathered and his blunt shoulders rather hunched as he stood with hat in hand. “I was wondering if I could get a ride to town, ma’am,” he said politely.

Her eyebrows raised just a fraction farther. “Well, of course you can, George, but…” She had to raise her chin to see his eyes. The man had to be six foot fifty. And was looking oddly uncomfortable. “The trucks all break down at once on you?” she questioned teasingly. George had never asked for a lift to town before, and the kind of supplies he usually brought back would hardly fit in her Passat.

“Sort of.” He shifted. “I need some parts from town. Just thought if you were going, you might not mind if I tagged along.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” she assured him, and slid into the driver’s seat, motioning George to get in as well. It was like watching a bear climb into a bassinet, but he managed to cram his long body into the passenger seat, his knees just about touching his chin. He stared politely ahead as she started the engine. “If it would save you a trip, I’d be happy to buy those parts for you,” Sonia offered.

“That’s okay, ma’am,” he said flatly.

Which just about settled that; George never wasted words. Sonia repressed a chuckle. One did get the feeling he would be more comfortable on a horse than next to her in the Passat. Charlie had driven to town in one of the pickups, she remembered fleetingly; perhaps the other was in use as well and George had simply been stuck for a ride. She glanced absently in the rearview mirror. Her pert white sharkskin skirt, soft purple blouse and sandals didn’t blend too well with her companion’s rough jeans and spurred boots. It didn’t bother her, but poor George was radiating nervousness.

“Tell me where you need to go,” Sonia suggested lightly. “Lawson’s or the hardware? My business won’t take long, George. If you need to get something quickly back to the ranch I could cut it out altogether. For that matter-”

“I just want to go to Brock’s, ma’am.”

Brock’s. Marina’s department store. Sonia adjusted the sun visor and managed to hide her surprise. George must be buying something for a girl friend; no wonder he was so untalkative. She spent the next five miles whimsically envisioning a romance in the offing.

The thought delighted her, but…well. George wasn’t exactly handsome. He was true-blue loyal, dependable and strong-hearted, but his speech was usually rather crusty-when he got around to talking. He spent at least four nights a week with a bottle and four poker buddies; he occasionally liked a good brawl, and…he chewed.

Sonia was hard-pressed to imagine the kind of woman he would shop at Brock’s for. George? And on ranch time, in the middle of the working day? It had to be love. George was the type who would come to work with pneumonia; playing hooky wasn’t his thing at all.

She cleared her throat as they neared the edge of town. “You know, George, if I could help you out by buying something for you,” she repeated.

“No, thank you, ma’am.”

The “ma’am” drove her nuts, but she let it be.

George needed a shower. Not drastically, but Sonia rolled down the window just a little instead of opting for air conditioning. Wedding plans filled her mind…difficult to imagine, though, because the giant next to her didn’t exude the most romantic of auras. Still, she wanted to help him.

“You’re looking for a special gift?” she tried tactfully.

George shifted uneasily. “Just parts, ma’am.”

Parts. In Marina’s store. All right. Sonia parked on the street in Cold Creek, and almost before she’d put the key in her purse found George opening her door for her. She blinked, stared at him in total bewilderment as she stepped out of the car. The last she knew, she could open a door on her own, and chivalry wasn’t exactly the first word that came to mind in free-associating George’s name.

The town had boomed in the past few years. Stores and businesses had popped up; the library was new, and suddenly parking was at a premium. Cold Creek had barely heard of McDonald’s ten years before; now there were two…and enough traffic to justify them. Sonia had mixed feelings about some of the changes. She was afraid the town would lose its sleepy Western flavor, but overall it was hard to find fault with growth that brought in jobs and prosperity for her neighbors.

She started walking with George at her side. His legs were miles long, and he was doing a touching job of trying to slow down to her pace. She tried to speed up accordingly; he tried to slow his gait further.

Laurel and Hardy, she thought wryly. Relief filled her as they finally reached the display windows of Brock’s. George awkwardly rushed forward to open the glass doors. “Thank you,” she murmured. It was like being trailed by an apprentice knight in shining armor, give or take the plug of Skoal tobacco in his cheek.

Counters laden with cosmetics and lingerie confronted them; George stopped stock-still, his expression not unlike that of a calf being led to a pen. Sonia chuckled; she couldn’t help it. “I had in mind going to see someone in the back offices,” she said lightly. “I’ll be there half an hour or so. Will that be long enough for you to get your…er…parts?”