Rebecca Zanetti - Against the Wall

Sophie opened it immediately, fresh and pretty in dark jeans, frilly white blouse, and a braid looking too similar to his mother’s.

“These are for you.” Jake handed her a large white box. Roses came in big white boxes, and he wondered belatedly if she’d be disappointed. They weren’t flowers.

Sophie stuttered in surprise as she accepted the box. She flipped open the lid and sighed out loud. “You brought me boots?” Her face wrinkled in confusion.

“Yeah. They’re not Manolos.” Jake shuffled his boots. “Plain old cowboy boots, and you’ll need them for your ride today.”

“They’re beautiful,” Sophie breathed out. Soft calfskin leather colored a creamy beige with a pointed toe. She hurried over to the wide porch swing covering one side of the wraparound porch and slipped off her tennis shoes.

“Dawnie picked them out. She had to guess at the size.” Thank goodness his sister had time between classes to help him out.

“They’re perfect,” Sophie said after yanking both boots up under her jeans. She stood, the boots giving her a couple inches in height. “But I can’t accept them.” Regret colored her words to reflect in her blue eyes.

Jake grinned. He couldn’t help it. What was it with women and shoes? Sophie looked like she was about to cry at giving up the boots.

“Montana law, ma’am.”

“Huh?”

“Montana law. A representative of the bar association, me, gives an associate boots, you, then state law dictates you have to keep them.”

“Really?” Sophie laughed and shook her head.

“Really,” Jake affirmed solemnly.

“No, Jake—”

“Please, Sophie? You’re probably used to more lavish gifts, but I really want you to have them.”

She looked in wonder at her pretty new boots. “I’m not used to gifts at all. Thank you. These are perfect.” She balanced up on her toes and back down like a graceful ballerina.

“You’re welcome,” he said thoughtfully. How odd. Why wasn’t she used to gifts? “I don’t suppose you know how to ride a horse?”

Sophie’s gaze flew to his face. Her partial-lesson the other day on his horse didn’t count. “Um, not exactly…”

Too soon, Sophie was giving it a try. “All right Mertyl, that’s right, slow and easy,” she crooned to the painted mare, her entire body tense and expecting to hit the ground. Eyes forward, Mertyl plodded ahead with a bored whinny. At least, it sounded like boredom.

Thick pine trees unfolded lush branches on either side of the dirt trail as a woodpecker beat a sharp staccato tune somewhere high up. Orange honeysuckle and thick huckleberry bushes fought for dominance throughout the trees, their sweet scents mixing with sharp pine. A cool breeze wafted through the sharp sunlight angling through branches and brought peace to the area.

They were truly alone.

Sophie fought to relax her muscles, butt, and thighs as she balanced. She couldn’t help but remember Jake’s hard thighs bracketing hers on the big black horse he rode again today. She studied his broad back as he maneuvered two tons of near-wild animal along the old trail easily, naturally.

Today he was all cowboy in faded jeans, black Stetson, and boots, his hair tied back at the nape. He was even bigger than she’d remembered. A dark gray shirt emphasized the breadth of a muscular chest that her body remembered well.

She grinned, and then her gaze softened as one of her new boots caught her eye. He’d bought her boots. Then she shook her head. He was a cowboy. A lawyer, no less. If that wasn’t bad enough, his main job was to prevent her from doing hers. She needed to remember they were opponents in a battle about to begin. A battle that could determine the rest of her career and save her uncle’s company. Boots or not.

As the trail angled upward, Sophie had to admit Jake was right about her horse. Slow and steady. Pretty safe. Mertyl had looked almost grateful when Jake led her from the deep rust-colored paddock on his ranch. Sophie had admired the color, and Jake told her it was the trim color of his parents’ paddocks, since he’d wanted consistency throughout all the ranches. His warm tone illustrated a closeness with his parents.

She had looked around for his home, but several mature blue spruce trees down the private driveway hid it.

Suddenly, the lake sparkled as the trail broke into a clearing of trampled wheat and sagebrush holding large rocks baking in the sun. Thick trees surrounded the vista on three sides while a steep incline led down to the water far below. The landscape was oddly similar to her dream the previous night, but not enough to cause alarm.

Jake jumped lithely off his stallion near the edge of the trees, turned, and reached to lift Sophie from Mertyl. His hands remained warm and strong around her waist as she regained her balance and stretched already protesting muscles. He waited until she met his gaze.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Amusement wove through his tone.

Her heart accelerated as his midnight eyes ran over her face in an almost physical caress. Sophie shook her head. She’d agreed to the trip so she could see her client’s land from a different perspective, not to flirt with the sexy lawyer. So she stepped back, and he released her.

Sophie turned toward the lake, letting its placidness calm her nerves while Jake tied reins to trees before grabbing two backpacks slung over his horse. He deftly shook out a tightly woven blanket with white, red, and brown-stitched patterns and spread it on the ground before adding plates, containers of food, and a bottle of wine.

“You really come prepared.” Sophie sat gingerly on the beautiful blanket.

A dimple flirted in his left cheek as Jake opened the containers. “My daughter helped pack the essentials.”

“You have a daughter?”

“Yeah.” Pride shone in his deep eyes. “Leila. She just turned six.”

“Pretty name,” Sophie murmured. Caution stiffened her spine. “You’re not, I mean, you’re not married, are you?” The heated kiss from the previous afternoon flashed through her mind.

“No. My wife died when Leila was only two.” Pain stamped down hard on the sharp angles of his face.

“I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough.

“Me, too.” He handed her a plate before opening the wine.

An orange-breasted robin hopped closer to the blanket, its beady eyes on the feast. “How did she die, Jake?”

He handed her a glass of Chardonnay. “She died running away from me.” He effectively ended the conversation by passing her a container filled with fried chicken.

They ate in silence. Sophie wondered about his deceased wife but didn’t want to spoil the afternoon with sadness. She’d ask later.

“It’s so peaceful here,” Sophie mused as two more robins joined the first.

“Yes. Without a golf course,” Jake said dryly.

“Golf courses are peaceful places.” Sophie tossed her empty plate into a garbage sack. “At least if they’re designed correctly.”

“Not the same, Soph.” Jake gestured at the deep green lake below them. “The risk isn’t worth it.”

Irritation jangled her nerves. “The golf course won’t pollute your lake.”

“The science doesn’t confirm that. Again, it’s not worth the risk. Besides, you don’t own any of the land, do you?”

She exhaled slowly, holding on to her temper. “No. A private company owns the land. They just hired us to design the golf course.” The sun beat down, and Sophie inhaled the crisp air.

“Well then, maybe we’re on the same side here.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Is this when the land starts speaking to me?”

Jake reached out one broad arm and yanked Sophie down beside him to face the clouds. “The land has been whispering since you arrived. You just need to listen.”

Sophie quieted with her head on Jake’s muscled shoulder, her face turned to the sky, her back comfortable against the blanket. She really should get up. Or move away. But he was so warm, so solid. She ignored her inner voice and shut her eyes to listen.

A breeze scattered pine needles to the hard earth. Honeysuckle layered the wind with sweetness. Birds twittered to each other in song, and Jake breathed deep and sure next to her. She opened her eyes.

Clouds drifted lazily across a beach-warm sky as a sense of peace slid through her bones into her deepest marrow. “I don’t hear the land.”

“Why aren’t you used to presents, Sophia?”

“Ugh. Please don’t call me that.” The wind brought a chill, and Sophie snuggled closer into Jake’s side. Just a bit.

“What’s wrong with Sophia?” Laziness coated his deep voice as he stared upward.

Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “It’s pretentious. I mean, seriously. ‘Sophia Smith’? What was she thinking?”

“Your mother?”

“Yeah.” Unease settled in her stomach.

“Is she French?”

“No, she wasn’t French. She just wanted to be somebody.” And she’d reached her goal.

“Wasn’t French?”

Remembered pain slithered down Sophie’s chest. “Wasn’t. She and my stepfather died in a car accident when I was eighteen.”

“I’m sorry. But she was somebody.”

“How do you figure?” Sophie pushed old hurts out of her mind.

“She was your mother.”

“That wasn’t enough, believe me.” Sophie’s shoulders tensed.

“I still don’t understand.” He tucked her closer.

Sophie let out a deep breath. “I’m not sure she knew who my father was. If she did, she never said. We were poor. Trailer-park poor. She always wanted more.”

“Did she get it?”

“Yeah. She married my stepfather, Roger Riverton, when I was fourteen. Then she got to travel everywhere.”

“What about you?”

Sometimes loneliness snuck up and chilled her skin, like now. “Boarding school. It was all right, I guess.”

“Did you like him? Your stepfather?”

“Not so much. He was quite a bit older and had already raised his family. In business, well, he was ruthless.”

Jake ran a hand down her arm, as if to offer warmth and reassurance. “How did you know he was ruthless?”

Memories flashed, bringing a dull pain to her temples. “A girl at school. I guess Roger raided her dad’s company and then tore it apart. It’s what he did.” She watched the clouds drift. “Once a man came to visit when I was home for school break. He was almost crying, practically begging Roger not to destroy his family’s construction business. I shouldn’t have listened at the door, but…”

Jake tightened his hold. “What happened?”

“Roger didn’t care. He was so cold, so mean. Like a shark. Told the man to forget it, that he deserved to lose his company. That he was weak.” She shivered. “But that’s how Roger made so much money.”

“But some of the money went to something good, right? I mean, to your schooling?”

Sophie tightened her jaw. “No. When they died, everything went to his kids. But I had a scholarship to school and took out some loans, so it all worked out.” She had never wanted Roger’s money.

Jake was quiet for a moment. “How did you choose golf course design?”

Sophie laughed, her heart lightening. “I loved art. Drawing and creating. When I met Uncle Nathan, Roger’s brother, he helped me to channel that into design. He’s my boss now.”

“Ahh. You love him.”

“Yes. When I was younger, I used to wish he were my dad. That Mom had married him instead.” Sophie rolled onto her stomach to face Jake. His muscles were relaxed, and he had one hand behind his head. “What about you? Are your parents still living?”

“My mother is. My father died in a snowmobile accident when I was eight and Quinn was six.” Jake’s eyes darkened with pain.

Sophie reached out to pat Jake’s chest. “I wondered about Colton and Dawn. They look so different from you and Quinn.”

Jake’s eyes crinkled. “Yeah. Mom married Tom a couple of years later and then they had Colt and Dawnie.”

“Were you upset she remarried?”

“Not really. I mean, he isn’t Kooskia, so I wasn’t so sure for a while. But Tom’s great, and he makes Mom happy. Though Dawn…” Jake grinned. “She has been a handful. For all of us.”

“Three older brothers? Poor Dawn.” Sophie grinned back. “Is it important to you? I mean, was Leila’s mother a member of the tribe?”

“Yes. She was full Kooskia.”

For some unknown reason, his admission deflated her.

Then he frowned. “I thought being a tribe member was important—that we’d want the same things.”

“But you didn’t?”