Rodeo Family. Mary Sullivan

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       Chapter Two

      Zach stood in his stable and let the cool, soothing darkness wash the heat of embarrassment from his cheeks. He’d made a fool of himself lunging at Nadine to make her sit for those damned boots.

       Smooth, Zach.

      His campaign hadn’t started well. He was better than this. Experienced with women. Not awkward and—lunge-y? Damn it, Brandt, you screwed up already.

      He should have known she’d bring her own boots. She might be fashionable and perfectly turned out every day, but she was smart. She wouldn’t walk his fields in high heels.

      How long would it take her to follow him in? He grinned. On the one hand, she’d pestered him for an interview about his painting, clearly motivated to be here. On the other hand, he knew she was proud. She might drive off in an indignant huff. He wouldn’t blame her. He liked that feisty part of Nadine and wanted to see her riled—anything other than the neutral, blank expression she wore too often since coming home.

      He also admired her boundless curiosity, except when she applied it to him. He didn’t want to do this interview. He wasn’t comfortable talking about himself. Never had been.

      He wasn’t verbal. His paintings said all there was to say about him.

      So why had he given in to her? To get her out on his ranch once more. Zach Brandt, you are so pathetic.

      Again, he grinned. Pathetic, yeah, but also smart like a fox. If he had to submit to being interviewed, so be it. He hadn’t pursued her back in high school because he’d known she had ambitions and would leave town for good eventually. For some reason, she’d come back home. She was free. As far as he knew, and he’d asked around, she had no significant other in her life. He was available since his divorce three years ago.

      But what would this new adult Nadine think of his ranch? Would she like it any better than she had when she was younger?

      There was no point in asking a woman out on a date if she hated what you did for a living.

      Where was she?

      She had her pride, and he wasn’t going back outside to get her. Her curiosity would get the better of her. Any minute now, she would give in and come to get him.

      By the time he’d greeted all of his horses with nose rubs and baby carrots from his shirt pocket, she still hadn’t shown up. She was tougher than he’d thought. Still biding his time, he stepped into the back room that was his studio in the summer months.

      Spotless, the room welcomed him like a long-lost buddy, the smell of paint as familiar here as hay, manure, dust motes and horses.

      He stared at the canvas sitting on the easel, an unfinished landscape that had been giving him fits. It was a study of his mountain at sunset, and he hadn’t yet gotten the red right where the light reflected on the tip. He mixed too bright or too dull, too orange or too blue.

      An old enemy—frustration in his lack of ability—ate at him. Buyers might praise his talent, but he knew better. He knew how far he missed the mark of perfection. He knew how arrogant he was to even try to reproduce what Mother Nature had already presented with such unadulterated splendor.

      Still, he strove to interpret and produce his love of the land. He couldn’t stop painting if he tried. The canvas, the paint, called to him.

      There had to be a way to mix that particular red. Maybe if he tried adding a little...

      With the flash of an idea that just might work, he picked up his palette and mixed. Close. Closer. When he applied brush and paint to canvas, he lost track of time. He lost himself.

      Burdens, worries, conflicts fell away. All was peace.

      * * *

      NADINE СКАЧАТЬ