The Wish. Diane Pershing
She would do it right this time. She would feel and act like a princess, gliding easily and gracefully through the evening.
Fool, she called herself now. People didn’t change. Sure, the prince had asked her to the ball, but she was no Cinderella, with a fairy godmother who provided magic that would make her blossom and bring her inner beauty to the surface.
Inner beauty? Hah.
“Gerri?”
Des was still waiting for the answer to his question about why Rance wasn’t seeing her home. She glanced sideways as they rushed along, his long legs having no trouble keeping up easily with her hurried pace. The expression on his face, which was arresting rather than handsome, with its deep, attractive grooves from spending days on horseback, was stormy. Oh, no, she wondered. Was he angry at her for canceling their date tonight, so she could go to the affair with Rance?
But it hadn’t been a real date. Not between her and Des. They were friends, that was all, just a bite to eat together was all it was to be. So why would he be hurt? Still, she couldn’t avoid noticing the fact that his expression was fierce and combative now, erasing the genuine concern of moments earlier.
It was confusing. The whole evening was confusing. If only she could do it over.
“Why isn’t Rance here with you?” he persisted.
“He doesn’t even know I’m gone. You don’t have to walk with me, you know,” she told him, her voice breaking again. “I just want to go home.”
“How will you get there?”
That stopped her in her tracks, while other pedestrians on the neon-lit downtown Reno street hurried past them. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She lived a couple of miles out of town, at the end of a long country road, and didn’t have her car with her. “I’ll get a taxi.”
“I’m taking you.”
She could have argued, but didn’t have the strength. Besides, she was grateful that the problem was solved. Her stupid heels, and her ankle, were killing her.
In Des’s pickup truck, after she’d given him directions to her place, Gerri stared out the window at the black night. As soon as you got outside of Reno proper, you could see all the stars that the casino lights obscured. The vast darkness was soothing, somehow, with its tiny, mysterious pinpricks of light, and had the effect of calming her down.
They drove in silence for a while, the only sound the shifting of gears. Eventually Des spoke. “Should I ask how it went?”
She snorted a quick laugh. “Probably not a good idea.”
“It’s okay,” he said, nodding, “it’s none of my business.”
“It’s not that,” she hastily assured him. “But let’s just say tonight was not one of my most rewarding life experiences. I’m lucky you showed up.”
Why had he shown up? she wondered once again. How had he happened to be there, right outside the casino, at the very moment she was coming out? She supposed it had been some kind of coincidence, although she was not a great believer in coincidence.
When she’d asked him about it earlier, he’d shrugged it off. Des was a pretty mysterious man in some ways, and the reason they got along so well was not only that they were both a little off-beat by nature, but also that each sensed in the other areas of privacy which were respected and not pried into.
They’d met because Gerri had been boarding her horse at his ranch for the past half year or so. They’d gotten into the habit of conversing while she saddled Ruffy and when she came back from her ride. Sometimes Des even came out on the trail with her; they rode together easily, joked and chatted. Correction: She did most of the chatting, he the listening. But there was an ease between them that Gerri—given her dismal history with men—appreciated deeply.
She’d never had a friendship with a man and, although their relationship didn’t extend past these morning rides, she didn’t want to spoil it. In truth, she’d been surprised that he seemed to enjoy being with her.
After all, Des was a looker, no doubt about it; in town, she’d run into him at the grocery store a few times and she’d seen many a female pause in her tracks when they saw him. She didn’t know exactly why he’d chosen her to be friends with, but it was probably because she wasn’t after him and therefore wasn’t a threat to his single existence. By now, she’d gotten beyond his rugged, decidedly masculine looks and just plain liked the man. If she wanted to know more about him and what made him tick, well, maybe in time he’d trust her enough to open up.
He pulled up in front of her pretty little house, a narrow two-story Victorian, which would have been more appropriate placed on a San Francisco street than up a country road, surrounded by mountains. The moment she’d arrived in town two years earlier, she’d seen this house, fallen in love with its charm and eccentricity, bought it and restored it to its current pristine condition. She’d had a full bank account at the time and still had most of it in careful investments, including the property on which she’d opened The Written Word. Moving to Nevada and owning the bookstore had been a lifelong dream, and now she had both.
Ah well, she thought philosophically, as Des turned off the motor, you can’t have it all. Despite tonight’s pain and regret and humiliation, it had still been the best two years of her life. She had friends, like Didi and Des, and a business she loved and supported. Her shop had an extensive children’s section, so there were always adorable little ones around to talk to and read to. She loved kids; if she never had any of her own, wasn’t this a fine substitute?
Before she could put her hand on the door handle, Des was out of the truck and pulling open the passenger door for her. Gerri stepped out, winced for a moment when she landed on her sprained ankle. Again, he held on to her elbow till she regained her balance.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Absolutely. I’m going to soak that stupid ankle in a nice basin of warm water right now.” She put a hand on his shoulder, considered kissing him on the cheek, but nodded instead. “Thanks, Des. I appreciate it.”
“You’re all right to go in alone?”
“I’m not alone. I have George and Ashley.”
“Cats aren’t a lot of comfort.”
“Says the non-cat lover. I’ll be fine. And thanks.”
As he observed Gerri limping into her house, it was all Des could do not to follow her, scoop her up and carry her inside. She was one stubborn woman, not good at accepting help. Although they were alike that way, he admitted to himself. Independent. Not just independent. Not trusting that if they fell, there would be someone there to pick them up.
Well, he’d been there to pick her up tonight. Good thing, too. Gerri had been through something upsetting, that was apparent. But what? Had Rance said something to her, insulted her? He felt his jaw tighten as he considered it, then he forced himself to relax as she turned at her front door and waved at him before she entered. He waved back, and felt a small flutter in his chest region as she winced once more before closing the door behind her. That ankle of hers was killing her and he knew it.
He got back into his truck and slammed the door shut. Why did this particular woman get to him? He never let anyone get to him. He’d kept himself detached from others and their needs for a long time. But lately, Gerri had gotten under his skin, and that made him uneasy. He wished he could turn it off. It was dangerous to get involved with others. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago.
“Damn,” he muttered, then backed the truck up, put it in gear and headed out to the highway toward his spread. In a way he was glad she’d canceled their dinner plans tonight, because he’d been on the verge of saying something to her, something he was sure he’d regret. It wasn’t easy, feeling so…vulnerable to any woman. Who knew what he might have said, what he might have regretted the minute it popped out of his mouth?
His reaction when she’d canceled