Erin's college dream is over and gone with it her future in New York City. All that is left is a father she barely knows in untamed Wyoming, and a young rancher who doesn't know how to trust.
UNBEATEN TRACKSNew York City throbbed with a vibrant energy, just as it always did. The streets were crowded with people, all busy living their own lives. Even the air was electric, edged with the tantalising tang of uncertainty, of the unexpected. You never knew what would happen in New York. It was what kept it alive.
Erin Barclay hadn't expected what had happened. Like everything in the city, it had hit her without warning. Usually, she thrived on this adrenaline of being unprepared, loved the unpredictability of a volatile life. She needed the excitement. But the letter that had arrived at her dorm room as she lounged around drinking vodka and Coke, missing yet another lecture, had sent her plummeting into dark depths she'd never experienced before. The depths of failure.
NYU was now a million miles away as Erin stood at the full-length window of her mother's Manhattan apartment, even though she could pinpoint its building on the skyline. The dream was over. She was a college dropout, one of the people she had always laughed at as she sailed through classes with the minimum of effort. She was just nineteen.
"You're still here, then." The sharp snap of her mother's voice pierced her reverie.
She turned to face Allyson Redmont, divorced from the man whose name Erin bore. Allyson was having a power-dressing day and wore a sharp grey suit that had no doubt scared the life out of the young executives at Redmont-Willis Media, the PR firm Allyson co-owned.
"Well spotted, Mom. Yes, I am still here."
"Any particular reason?"
"Where else do I have to be? I'm a dropout, remember."
"You're not a dropout, Erin. Dropouts leave college voluntarily. You're what's known as a failure."
"Rub it in, why don't you?"
"Don't take it out on me. It's not my fault you didn't attend any classes or complete any assignments."
"The same system got me through high school, didn't it?"
"My point exactly. You got away with it for long enough. You couldn't ride on the crest of the same ridiculous wave forever."
"Thanks for all your support, Mom."
"You don't deserve any support. I can't believe you've done this. Did you seriously think you'd sail through college without a scrap of effort? Do you think Kyal spent his time doing nothing?"
Erin's eyes, usually the colour of a warm Caribbean ocean, darkened a shade at the mention of her brother, the version of perfection Kyal, a senior at Dartmouth. "When will you get it? I'm not Kyal and I never will be."
"I'm not asking you to be him! All I'm asking is you not to bring shame on this family." Allyson's own eyes hardened. "Of course, it's a bit late for that now."
"For Christ's sake, Mom…"
By this point the phone had begun ringing and Allyson had lost interest in the situation. The maid came through to answer it but was waved away. Allyson didn't enjoy talking to her daughter for too long; Erin had a habit of getting the better of her mother.
"Yes?" she snapped into the cordless phone. There was a moment of silence. "Michael. What do you want?"
In spite of herself, Erin's ears pricked when she heard her father's name mentioned. She hadn't seen Michael since her high school graduation nearly a year previously. Since divorcing Allyson when Erin was fourteen, he'd established himself as a ranch owner in the untamed prairies of Northeastern Wyoming, apparently a dream since childhood. His only contact with his daughter was an occasional phone call which usually lasted less than three minutes. Neither of them ever knew what to say.
"Yes, she's here. It's not like she has classes to attend." Allyson held the phone out to her daughter. "Your father wants to talk to you."
Against her better judgement, Erin took the receiver. "Dad, if you're going to go nuts at me, I've just had the whole speech from Mom."
"Do I usually go nuts at you?" Michael's calm, gravely voice asked. Born and raised in Chicago, he still hadn't lost the accent that made him sound like a man to be feared.
"I don't usually get kicked out of college for failing my finals."
"Is Allyson still pissed off?"
"What'd you think?"
"Surprise, surprise. She never could let anything go."
Erin couldn't help but allow the corners of her mouth to curl in a half-smile. "Why're you calling, Dad?" she said, never one to beat around the bush.
"Just wondering if you had any plans yet. What're you gonna do?"
"Who knows?"
"You gotta be thinking something."
"All I'm thinking right now is that I want to get out of this place. If Mom says one more word to me, I'm gonna drown her in the stewed prune juice she's using for her new diet."
"You want to move out of the apartment?"
"That's the dream, but where can I go? All my friends are in dorms at NYU or at college all across the country. I can hardly go stay with Kyal, can I?"
"Come stay with me, then," Michael said simply.
A frown creased Erin's smooth brow. "Say what? Stay with you?"
"Is it such a ridiculous idea?"
"Dad, in nearly five years I've never even seen your place."
"Now seems like a pretty good time to do it. You don't have a job or anything lined up, right?"
"Yeah, as if. Can you see me standing behind the counter at KFC or signing up at a community college in Brooklyn?"
"My thoughts exactly. So what's stopping you? Grab a flight and come spend some time out here. It's the perfect place for getting your head together."
"Wyoming's not really my scene, Dad. I mean, do they even know what a Sex on the Beach is?"
"It may not fit your current lifestyle but there's more to life than parties and clubbing."
"You sound as if you actually believe that."
"Maybe I do. Come on, Erin, I'm offering you a chance to get away from your mother and figure out what you want to do with your life. You're not gonna get many more offers like it."
Erin looked too her mother. Allyson paused from checking her makeup in her compact mirror and glared back.
"Dad," Erin turned back to the phone. "I'll be calling United Airlines in the next five minutes."
X X X
Sweat ran in rivulets down the bronzed contours of Cade Johnson's face. His shirt, unbuttoned to mid-chest, stuck like glue to his hot body. He sat deeper in the saddle, feeling his piebald gelding shift beneath him, and pushed back his Stetson until its rim rested on the back of his neck, revealing tousled hair darker than any midnight sky. The sun continued to beat its merciless rays down onto him.
Ahead of him, the vast plains of Wyoming stretched out, moving up into the foothills of the wild Bighorn Mountains. The cattle grazed contentedly, unbothered by the blazing sun. Cade closed his eyes against the dazzling light and silently wished for a cold beer and a dip in the duck pond back at the ranch.
"Don't you fall asleep while I'm paying you."
The voice made Cade jerk his eyes open. Horse's steps unheard in the sparse grass, his boss rode towards him.
"Hey, Michael," Cade said calmly. "What you doing out here?"
"Just felt like a ride to clear my head." The older man tipped his hat back in the same manner as Cade's. "You get that fence fixed?"
"Yes sir."
"How many times have I gotta tell you? I don't want you to call me sir."
Cade shrugged strong shoulders, sculpted by sinewy muscle. "Fine by me."
They were quiet for a few moments, surveying the grazing herd.
"I just got off the phone with my daughter," Michael said conversationally.
Cade met his boss's eyes but said nothing, as he often did.
"She's flying out here in a couple of days," Michael went on. "She's had a bit of trouble back in New York. I thought it'd do her good to get back to basics out here."
Again, Cade didn't speak. He rarely wasted words if he didn't have too.
"You wouldn't mind her being here, would you?"
"Why should I?" Cade asked.
"You live here as well."
"So do Jesse and Lach." The other two young ranchers shared a cabin with Cade and the three had grown close over the time they'd lived and worked together.
"And I'll be asking them the same question."
Cade's dark eyes remained expressionless. "It won't bother me."
Michael smiled. "That's good. Because if it doesn't bother you, I can bet my money on it not bothering Jesse or Lach."
"What makes you say that?"
"Those two are so laidback they're almost horizontal." Michael regarded the younger man. "You, Cade, are a different story all together. I don't think I'll ever figure out what's going on in your head."
"That's probably a good thing."
"I always feel there's something you're not telling me."
Cade shrugged. "Maybe there is. But I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. I respect you, Michael. I feel like you trust me. I wouldn't do anything to break that trust."
"I never thought you would."
Cade acknowledged the comment with a tilt of his head. He tugged the front rim of his hat down over his eyes again, sitting up straighter in the saddle. The gelding shifted his weight, ears pricking forward, immediately knowing his owner was ready to finally move on.
"Let's go, Brack," Cade said quietly. He touched the hat rim to Michael. "See you back there."
With barely the lightest touch of Cade's heels, Brack broke into a steady canter, his hooves eating up the dry, barren ground as they headed for home. Cade moved effortlessly in the saddle, at one with his animal. Brack, for his part, needed only the lightest touch of the reins to know what Cade wanted from him. They were natural partners, both adoring the other. People often said Brack was the only thing Cade would ever love.
Most of the time, he thought they were right.
X X X
Stepping off the plane at Sheridan, Wyoming, Erin experienced a sudden moment of panic as she wondered if she would even recognise her father. Worse, would he recognise her? Needing a moment to collect herself, she ducked straight into the bathroom.
Leaning over a washbasin, she stared into the mirror. A tired young woman look back, her lively eyes for once dull and her quick, mischievous smile hidden. Her lengths of mahogany hair, streaked with the season's fashionable red and barely reaching her collar, desperately needed a wash. Even her expensive clothes, a spaghetti-strap top and patterned designer jeans that clung to the slim lines of her lithe body, seemed old and worn.
"Is this really worth it?" Erin asked her reflection.
The reflection didn't reply, so she bent over the faucet, dousing her face in cold water. It did little except remind her she'd left a full bottle of Evian on the plane. Giving up, she picked up her bags and made for the arrivals area, forcing herself to hold her head high.
She couldn't help but expel a tiny sigh of relief when she identified Michael standing in the crowd. He had changed little; the same close-cut dark hair, craggy face, lean figure and warm hazel eyes that saved him from appearing intimidating. She was taken aback by how much he looked like a cowboy now. He even wore a Stetson, for God's sake.
"Hey, baby." He held out his arms as she approached him and, with only a slight hesitation, she accepted his embrace. "Good flight?"
"I've had worse."
"Welcome to the real America," he said cheerfully. "I got the truck waiting outside. Can't wait to show you the ranch."
"Yeah, sounds great." She forced herself to smile.
"Hey, Cade." Michael had turned away and was calling to another man standing a couple of feet away, hands pushed deep into the pockets of worn, tight-fitting jeans. "Can you grab Erin's cases?"
The other guy approached. He was taller than Michael, easily six feet two, and hard-muscled judging by the shirt that clung to the sculpted lines of his solid torso. His face and hair were hidden under his Stetson, but Erin caught a glimpse of a pair of dark eyes as he effortlessly lifted her two heavy suitcases.
"This is Cade, one of my ranch-hands," Michael explained. "Cade, my daughter Erin."
Cade merely nodded, saying nothing and making no effort to reveal more of his features. He turned away and headed for the exit with the cases.
"Don't mind him," Michael said. "He never talks much unless he's with his buddies."
"Where'd you find him? The strong-and-silent store?"
"A rodeo, actually. I'd never seen a guy handle a horse or steer as well as him. I had to offer him a job."
Erin didn't really care, wanting nothing more than a vodka and Coke and a long sleep. "Let's get out of here, Dad," she said impatiently.
Michael had clearly not forgotten his daughter's lack of tact and patience and smiled, wrapping a strong arm round her shoulders and leading her out to the pickup truck. The young rancher sat in the driving seat, still protected from view by his hat.
"OK, big guy," Michael told Cade once he and Erin were settled in their seats.
Cade showed no sign of having heard, but a second later he floored the gas pedal and was barging his way into the traffic. He drove with only one hand on the wheel, the other hanging loose as he leant an elbow on the doorframe. Erin couldn't help noticing how big and strong his hands were and how capable the one guiding the wheel seemed.
Wondering why the hell she was checking out an unfriendly guy's hands, she distracted herself with the scenery. At first, it was just any other city, nowhere near New York standard, but a city nonetheless. After a while, though, the buildings and hustle and bustle were lost, replaced by flat plains of brown, green and yellow stretching for what seemed like forever. Erin could just make out where the towering mountains began.
"What'd you think?" Michael eventually asked.
"It's very…countrified," was all Erin could think of to say.
She could have sworn she saw the young rancher's mouth twitch in a quick grin.
"You'll get used to it," Michael said. "Maybe even grow to love it."
"Do you love it, Dad?"
He turned back to look at her. "More than anywhere else in the world."
It was another half an hour before the ranch came into view. The truck left the road and turned onto a stone track lined by post and rail fencing. Around a corner, the main house came into view. A two-story log cabin, it reminded Erin of the luxurious ski chalets she often stayed at in Colorado or Calgary. It was no shack, not the hillbilly abode she'd pictured on the plane. It actually looked welcoming, inviting even.
"Welcome home, sweetheart," Michael said as Cade swung the truck to a halt on a flat area of land a few yards in front of the house, apparently designated as parking.
Home? Erin almost smiled. Home was the vibrant centre of up-market Manhattan. This place could never be home.