the rancher and the rose
 

a harlequin novel

The Rancher and the Rose
by Carolyn Zane


Chapter One

"Dylan! You ready?"
Dylan Lowry bunched his shoulders in a hapless shrug, and urged his prancing horse around the edge of his herd. As ready as he'd ever be, he reckoned. Driving cattle was his livelihood. Driving 'em for a scene in his old college buddy's latest independent film endeavor...well, now, that was another thing altogether.
"Yeah, I guess so," Dylan shouted up at Willy, who — along with a cameraman — was perched high in the bucket of a cherry picker, rented from the local electric company. "Better get a move on. Sun's gonna drop behind those mountains soon."
Sunsets in Montana were generally spectacular, but Dylan knew Willy was always harping about the high cost of lights and crew and continuity and a bunch of technical stuff, so he guessed sunset scenes in this low budget extravaganza were out. It was too bad. Poking a straw into the corner of his mouth, Dylan allowed his gaze to travel the rugged terrain. In a while the light would be straight out of heaven, and this valley, a little piece of paradise. But it wouldn't last more than a few minutes.
"Right, right," Willy muttered and glanced at his watch. With a short nod, he gripped his bullhorn and, after a last look through his lens, roared, "Okay, you guys, this is our one and only chance to get this right, got that? We cannot afford to reshoot. I repeat. We cannot afford to reshoot."
The crowd of extras — consisting of a handful of Dylan's ranch hands and some other old college buddies Willy had conned into helping him realize his dream — nodded.
"Okay then." Willy sucked in a deep breath. "Aaaand action!"
Dylan spurred his mount and cracked his whip. "Heeyaaa!" Dust swirled and cattle bawled as he, and a couple of well-trained cow dogs, set the herd in motion. Dylan's job was to stampede the cattle across this remote stretch of highway, just as stuntman "A" — Willy's brother-in-law, in the robber's getaway car — and stuntman "B" — Willy's neighbor, in the police car — reached the apex of the nearby hill. The timing was critical.
On cue, stuntman "A" came screaming down the road, just as Dylan drove the first of his herd onto the asphalt. "Get on 'em, Shep," Dylan shouted. "That's good. Go right, Duke. Good dog." Sirens pealed as stuntman "B" gave chase in the police car.
Dylan grinned. So far, so good. Willy better like this because after a week of this movie stuff, he was feeling a little squirrelly.
Tomorrow, he was going back to running his ranch.



Chapter One: Part Two

Rose Ryan never even knew what hit her.
As usual, Rose had been too busy to notice that her very life was in peril, until it was far too late. The cell phone that was an ever-present fixture at the side of her lovely head was practically smoking from the rapid business usage, as she negotiated her sporty red Mercedes through the afternoon traffic.
"I'll fax you a copy of the agreement on that Bach's Landing mall deal from the car as soon as I get a chance, Eric." Rose leaned across her front seat and rooted impatiently through her glove box. "Right now, I have to meet a client, and I'm already late."
Applying extra pressure to the gas pedal, she zipped across two lanes of traffic with nary a glance in her rearview mirror. "Eric? I'm not sure where this place is...exactly.... So, could you please pull the Greenburg file? I scribbled the address on the front of the folder.... Yeah, uh-huh. That's it. Just a second."
Reaching around behind her, Rose grabbed her purse and dumped its *******s on the seat beside her, rummaging until she found a pen.
"Okay," she commanded in her efficient, successful Realtor-on-the-go voice, "shoot... Um-humm...Barlow Road? Yeah, I'm close. Okay. Good. Thanks, Eric. Bye."
It was then, as Rose fished her map from the glove box, that she missed the signs warning her that the next two exits were closed, and shot past the giant orange signs that announced Detour. Glad for the opportunity to make up precious lost seconds, she wrenched her wheel and zoomed off the freeway and onto a deserted-looking secondary road.
What a relief! After all the hustle and bustle of driving through Billings at rush hour, to be able to fly was such a heady feeling. Why, at this rate, she'd be there in no time, close the sale of yet another nice chunk of real estate, and still get back to the office for another few hours of work.
Life was good.
Hmm, she thought as she spread her road map across the steering wheel and searched for the proper coordinates, Barlow Road. Glancing up to get her bearings, Rose suddenly noticed that she was no longer alone.
A car that appeared to have endured more than one accident roared up behind her, then passed her and cut her off by swerving into her lane.
"Well! Of all the rude —" Rose muttered several pithy expletives under her breath, and tapped her brakes. Why would this idiot be crowding her this way? They had the entire road all to themselves. Never mind, she would simply pass him. It was a little dicey, being so close to the crest of a hill and all, so she would have to hurry. Her chin jutting, she decided it would be best to ignore this wacko as she soared by.
However, the wacko in question would not be ignored.
Rose gripped the wheel and pulled her lower lip into her mouth. Was he drunk? She watched in abject terror as his car thudded over the reflectors that divided the road and lurched crazily about. Why, in heaven's name, was he wearing a ski mask? It wasn't even snowing. She screamed as his back bumper scraped her front bumper, causing sparks to fly.
Okay. That did it. She was calling 911.
"Police, medical, or fire?" the efficient voice on the other end of her cell phone inquired.
"Um, I...ah...!" Rose gasped, her gaze fixed on the crazy driver. He had a gun! In her rearview mirror, the red and blue lights of a police car flashed.
"Ohthankyouthankyou!" She sagged with relief. "That was quick!"
"You're…welcome." The 911 dispatcher sounded confused. "So, police, fire, or medical?"
"Animal!"
"Animal?"
As she crested the hill, a herd of cattle loomed.
"Lady!" A voice behind her bellowed through what sounded like a bullhorn. "Lady! Get off the set! THIS...IS...A...CLOSED...SET! For everyone's safety, please exit the set!"
Exit the set? What on earth was going on here?
A full-blown case of panic caused the road to swim before her eyes as Rose slammed her foot hard on the brakes. Amazingly, she managed to avoid a bawling cow, a cowboy on a horse, a gangster in a junker, a police car, and a cherry picker from the electric company before she plowed into a barbed wire fence, hit a post, and knocked herself silly on her steering wheel.
* * *



Chapter One: Part Three

Dylan was the first to reach the wreck. He'd recognized the sporty Mercedes as soon as it came soaring over the hill. He felt his heart lurch into his throat at the sight of Rose's profusely bleeding forehead.
"Rose!" He climbed into the passenger seat of her Mercedes and felt her wrist for a pulse. Pink and orange light from the brilliant sunset filled the interior of her car. Her skin was pale against her wild mane of chestnut hair. She was still every bit as beautiful as he'd remembered.
"You know her?" Willy wondered aloud, climbing in behind him. "'Cause if she ain't dead, I'm killin' her."
"Who's Rose?" Rose murmured as her eyes blinked open.
"Yeah. I know her. Once upon a time, I was gonna ask her to marry me."
"You were? And who might you be?" Rose smiled blissfully just before her eyes rolled back into her head and she lapsed into unconsciousness.

Chapter Two

The story so far: Handsome rancher Dylan Lowry and hotshot commercial Realtor Rose Ryan were once very much in love, and planned to marry. But he wanted a stay-at-home wife, and she wanted a high-powered career. Dylan thought that he had forgotten about Rose, but when her sporty red Mercedes interrupts the movie set he's working on and crashes into a pole, Dylan is the first to reach her side — only to discover that Rose has forgotten him, and everything else!
Dylan stood in the waiting room of the hospital, wiping his clammy palms against the denim of his Wrangler jeans. Until today, his last memory of Rose Ryan had been her standing out in front of his house, sun glinting off her auburn hair, telling him to make a choice — he could have her or he could live in the 1950s. She'd been ticked off, but she had also been fiery and alive.
When Dylan had carried her into the emergency room earlier, she'd been pale and limp and hadn't even been able to recall her name.
Willy sat in an orange chair, watching Dylan pace. "I remember her now. I mean, I never met her but I remember you talking about her. You wanted that gal like I want an Oscar."
Dylan said nothing. What could he say? Rose's leaving had been like a horse kicking him in the gut, except that time hadn't eased the pain as much as Dylan had expected. When he'd seen her today he'd been terrified that she…that she…
"Dylan!"
He was immensely grateful that the sound of his name being called interrupted the unpalatable thought.
"Mom! I'm glad you're here." She hadn't been home when Rose had crashed back into his life, but Dylan had left a message for her.
"How is she?" June Lowry's face, lined with age but still beautiful, was the picture of concern.
Dylan shrugged. "They haven't told me anything yet."
"That poor, poor girl. I always loved Rose. You never should have let her get away."
He couldn't believe his mom was siding against him. "I didn't let her get away. She stormed out of my life. She didn't love me, not as much as she loved the idea of getting rich. You might never have had grandchildren if I'd married Rose and her career."
His mother shook her head. "At the rate you're going, I'll never have grandbabies anyway. Besides, a woman can be a wife and mother and still be a person of her own. Rose didn't want to get rich, she just wanted a life."
"I would have given her a life." He would have given Rose anything she wanted if she'd stayed.
His mother sat next to Willy, muttering under her breath. Dylan realized she'd been muttering to herself a lot lately.
A man in a white coat who looked impossibly young for a doctor stepped into the room. "Mr. Lowry? You can see your friend now."
Dylan's heart thudded against his chest. "How is she?"
"She'll be fine. She does have a concussion. The nurse will give you a schedule for tonight. You can't allow Ms. Ryan to sleep for long. She seems to be suffering from a form of retrograde amnesia."
"How serious is that?"



Chapter Two: Part Two

"Each case varies, but Ms. Ryan should recover. There will be some swelling from her head injury and that will continue to affect her memory, but as the swelling goes down, things should start to come back to her. Right now she still has her behavioral memory — how to tie shoelaces and things like that — but she's unclear on specifics like who she is."
"And she doesn't remember me." Dylan couldn't keep the desolation out of his voice. Things may have ended badly between them, but he and Rose had shared some of the best times of his life. The memories that eluded her now haunted him — their first kiss, the first time she'd told him, in a shaky whisper, that she loved him.
The doctor pointed out her room, and Dylan stopped at her bedside, wondering if she was asleep. "Rose?"
Her eyelashes fluttered and he found himself drowning in eyes as blue as the Montana sky. "You." Her mouth curved into a smile. "The man who said he was going to marry me."
"I'm Dylan, Dylan Lowry."
"They say I'm Rose, but you already know that." Her eyes were alight with curiosity, and he was relieved by her alert expression. She might have a helluva headache, but she was going to be okay. "You probably know a lot about me, don't you?"
"All kinds of stuff," he croaked. Like how she tasted, how soft her hair was, how it might be a blessing if she forgot her hard childhood, how she'd chosen a job selling off the land he loved over a life with him. Now was probably not a good time to get into all of that. "Rose, I think it would be best if you stayed out at my ranch for a little while until you get your bearings. I've got friends and family there and we can look after you."
Her lips pressed into a thin line and Dylan almost laughed. Even now, she had a stubborn independent streak.
Hastily, he corrected himself. "Not that you can't take care of yourself. I just thought my family could try to help you remember things."
Appeased, she nodded. "I'd appreciate that."
He glanced to the doorway behind him. "I'll go see the doctor about checking you out." As he was leaving, her voice stopped him.
In a mischievous tone that reminded him of why he'd originally fallen in love with her, Rose said, "If I didn't have firsthand experience, I never would have believed a girl could forget a man who looks like you."
He turned back toward her. "And how do I look?"
Her gaze slid from his face down his body, and his skin warmed as though she were touching him.
"I don't remember the word for it," she deadpanned.
For a moment the old familiar habit of flirting with Rose battled Dylan's common sense. Rose had broken his heart; he'd be crazy to get involved with her again. Or would he? How often did people get a second chance like this? Her 100-mile-an-hour life had almost got her killed today.
Maybe this was his chance to show her things from his point of view before she remembered everything and left him. Again.

Chapter Three
!
"My god. It's fabulous!" Rose's breath caught as Dylan helped her down from the cab of his pickup. The expanse of open sky above stretched like black velvet over the Lowrys' ranch, broken only by the delicate diamond pinpricks of stars. The soft lowing of cattle drifted on the evening breeze.
Dylan felt a tug at his heart as one hand supported hers, the other placed gently at the small of her back. Memories of dancing at the county fair flooded over him. She had always been light as a feather. Still was.
"I just can't help feeling that somehow, in some way, this land means a lot to me." Rose's voice broke Dylan's reverie. If she only knew, he thought.
Rose gave Dylan a grateful smile. "Thank you for bringing me here."
He stared at her face with its smattering of dainty freckles. How many nights had he dived into those azure eyes, losing all care, all reason?
Dylan floundered for an appropriate response. The simplicity of "you're welcome" eluded him. His mother appeared on the porch and rescued him from the potentially awkward moment.
"Well, it's about time. I was beginning to wonder if you two had run off together." June Lowry jogged down the wide wooden steps toward the couple. Dylan flashed his mother a dark look that went unheeded as she wrapped one arm around Rose.
"I'm June Lowry, dear. Much as it grieves him to admit it sometimes, I'm this big lout's mother." She nodded her silver head in Dylan's direction. Dylan grimaced.
"At the risk of sounding rude, have we met before?" Rose asked.
June paused and looked at the young woman. "Why, yes, dear, we certainly have. You might even say you were almost a daughter to me." June looked over Rose's shoulder and gave Dylan a knowing wink. Dylan cringed.
Rustic elegance described the interior of the ranch house. Open beams and a mammoth stone fireplace testified to the masculine presence on the ranch, but subtle traces of femininity wove themselves deftly into the pattern. Lace curtains on the windows, fine crystal in the china closet, and pastel throw pillows on the sofa lent a civilized air to the mounted game heads on one wall and fully stocked gun cabinet in the corner.
The gentler details seemed to soothe Rose who, for a moment, looked to Dylan like a doe caught in the headlights of a present she did not know.
His mother hadn't helped matters with her veiled attempts at playing Cupid. That was something Dylan was determined to put a stop to. He knew his mother had always favored Rose, and was just as devastated as he when their engagement broke off; but he was not above hog-tying his mother if she didn't cease her meddling.
"We'll set you up in the guest room. Do we have any idea how long you'll be staying?" June directed the question more to her son than Rose.
"The doctor gave instructions not to let her sleep for more than a couple hours at a time, and we should watch for certain things like vomiting or persistent confusion."
"Well, that's a comforting thought," Rose began. "I've been persistently confused since I woke up in the hospital."
June patted her arm. "Don't worry, dear. Dylan's been persistently confused for years, but we haven't committed him yet."
The two women shared bubbling laughter at Dylan's expense as June led Rose toward the guest room. "Let's find you something comfortable to wear. You must be exhausted."
Dylan flopped into an overstuffed armchair. He let out an exasperated sigh as the front door suddenly burst open. Shep, Dylan's dog, scrambled across the hardwood floor as Willy rolled in like a tumbleweed, brown hair in a wild tangle.



chapter Three: Part Two

"Dylan! We've got to talk about my film!"
Dylan rolled his eyes. "Look, Willy. I'm sorry your shoot was ruined, " Dylan began.
Willy shook his head vehemently. "No, no. Not that film. Okay. I admit it. After I left the hospital, I went to a diner and cried in my cappuccino. But then, bam! It hit me. I'm always looking for ways to cut the costs of filming. Well, what's the cheapest type of film to make, huh?"
Dylan stared blankly at his friend. "I guess you're going to tell me?"
"********aries! You don't have to worry about the cost of casting, 'cause you're not using real actors. There's minimal scripting. All you need is an interesting subject."
"And what 'interesting subject' did you have in mind?" Dylan narrowed his eyes.
"Amnesia, of course!"
Dylan and Shep groaned simultaneously.
* * *
Dylan stood in the doorway of the guest room. The clock in the living room chimed three. Dylan had taken over the watch from his mother at one. They had worked out a rotating schedule to keep an eye on Rose. He gazed at her longingly now as she slept. Even sleeping, she still fueled the fire that nearly sent him over the edge.
His eyes traveled from her auburn tresses down to the graceful curve of her hip. She wore one of June's thick flannel nightgowns, but even in the practical garment, Rose managed to look sexy as hell. Her white ankle peeked from beneath the ruffled hem, leading down to her red polished toenails.
"Is it time to wake up already?" Rose's soft voice sneaked across the room. Startled, Dylan nearly dropped the stoneware mug in his hand.
"Why, Mr. Lowry. If it wasn't dark in here, I would swear you were blushing," Rose teased.
"No, I j-just thought you might like a cup of tea." He held out the steaming mug.
Rose sat up. "I hope it's Earl Grey. That's my favorite!"
Rose and Dylan both froze, realizing the implications of what she had just said. Rose's eyes grew wide.
"I remember! I remember Earl Grey is my favorite tea!" She touched the bandage on her forehead. "I guess the swelling must be going down. The doctor said I would start remembering things when it did. I must be on my way to recovery, huh?"
Dylan's heart sank. She was on her way, all right. If he didn't do something soon, she was on her way right back out of his life.

Chapter Four

"Dylan!" Rose called from the top of the landing. Dylan had run out of her guest room earlier, just when she had been on the verge of remembering something about him.
When he didn't respond, she hurried down the steps, then paused uncertainly in the center of the comfortable family room. A feeling of familiarity washed over Rose, giving her a fleeting sense of belonging, then vanished.
She walked over to the stone fireplace and extended her hands to the crackling fire, noting with a frown that her fingers were trembling. Lifting her chin a notch, she willed her hands to stop shaking. Gut instinct told her that she was a strong-willed, confident woman, and with a little help, she could conquer this amnesia thing.
Rose placed the heel of her palm on her forehead and concentrated as hard as she could on the faint stirrings of memory within, but her mind remained blank. With a frustrated groan, she backed away from the fireplace. A 12-point buck mounted over the mantel stared down at her. "If only you could talk," she muttered.
The sound of clanking dishes caught Rose's attention, along with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. She hurried in the direction of the kitchen, hoping to locate Dylan. Although she preferred tea, Dylan was like a grumpy grizzly until he had his morning coffee.
Rose skidded to a stop on the shiny hardwood floor as the significance of that memory slammed into her brain. If she knew what Dylan needed in the morning, she must have spent the night with him at some point.
"Come on in, Rose," June Lowry said with a smile. She dusted flour from her hands and popped a tray of biscuits into the oven. "Hope you're hungry."
"I'm famished," Rose admitted as she stepped into the cozy kitchen.
"That's one of the many things I liked about you, Rose. You'd sit down and enjoy a hearty meal, not like some of those women who are afraid of gaining an ounce," she said with a wave of her hand in the air. "Of course, you were always burning the candle at both ends. You never stood a chance at gaining weight."
"I was?"
June nodded. "You must be real successful by now. I always envied your spunk and ambition. I told Dylan —" she began, then clamped her mouth shut.
"Go on," Rose urged her. She was eager to find out as much as possible about herself.
"Can't. The doctor said we should let you remember a little at a time so you don't get too overwhelmed," she said gently and patted Rose's shoulder. "I'm glad the clothes fit."
"Thank you." The borrowed jeans and denim shirt were a little snug and the boots a bit big, but they would do. "Where's Dylan?"



Chapter Four: Part Two

June nodded toward the sliding doors that led to the deck. "Having his coffee out on the deck just like always. Dylan is a creature of habit, just like his daddy was. Head as hard as a mule, too. Would you mind telling him breakfast is almost ready?"
* * *
Dylan braced the toe of his boot against the railing and gazed up at the majestic mountains. He swallowed the last sip of coffee and turned to go into the house just as the sliding glass doors opened with a whoosh. Rose walked toward him while taking a deep breath of the fresh air.
"Could you ever get tired of this view?" Rose asked, shading her blue eyes against the bright sun glinting off the jagged snow-capped peaks.
"Never," he answered gruffly, his eyes locked on her profile. The cool morning breeze blew strands of auburn hair across her face. Without thinking, Dylan reached out and tucked the silky tresses gently behind her ear.
She slowly turned and looked at him, searching his face for clues to her past. Their past. They had been engaged to be married, that much she knew from what Dylan had already told her. Somehow she sensed that there was more to the story — if they had been engaged, what had changed between them?
"Tell me, Dylan," she pleaded. "Tell me about us."
Rose's soft husky plea was almost his undoing. Her face, washed clean of makeup, reminded him of the young free-spirited girl he had fallen in love with. He wanted to gather her in his arms.
Instead, he turned away from her and gripped the railing. "We used to ride our horses up into those mountains on mornings like this. On the other side of that ridge is a pristine lake jumping with trout. That was our favorite spot. Mom would usually pack us a lunch."
"Tell me more, Dylan. I want to know what happened between us." She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories to come. Her heart beat faster as she waited.
"No."
"Please." She said softly.
"I'd fish and you'd pick flowers," he said tersely and turned for the door.
Rose grabbed his arm. He would have shaken her off but her next words stopped him.
"I'd weave wildflowers in my hair," she began uncertainly then closed her eyes. "There was a patchwork quilt. We'd spread it out for our picnic."
"On hot summer days, we'd swim in the lake," he offered hesitantly.
"The water was so cold," she said with a delighted laugh. "But you would warm me up when we…" she began. Her eyes opened wide. "Dylan!"
"I'm going inside."
She grabbed his arms and pulled him close. "Kiss me, Dylan. I have this feeling.… Kiss me and I'll remember everything."
Dylan lowered his head, intent on capturing her trembling lips, but he abruptly pulled back. He didn't want her to remember everything. Not now. Not yet. Not when he had a second chance to win her love — forever this time.
"What are you afraid of, Dylan?" Rose asked angrily, letting go of his arms. "Why don't you want me to remember what happened between us?" She pushed past him and stormed into the house, nearly knocking over Willy, who had a mug of coffee in one hand and a tiny camcorder in the other. He filmed her progress as she stomped up the stairs.
"Remember anything yet?" he called up to her.
"Yeah, that I don't like you!" Rose shot back.
"Oh, this is going to be good," Willy said. If he wasn't mistaken, there were sparks flying between Rose and Dylan. Maybe if he gave them a little push, they'd fall in love all over again before Rose got her memory back!
"The plot thickens." Willy grinned. "A love story with amnesia — I smell an Oscar!" With a toss of his long hair, he headed toward the deck to see Dylan.

Chapter Five
.
"You did what!" Willy exclaimed. He moved his camcorder away from his face so that he could gaze at his friend in astonishment. "The love of your life practically threw herself into your arms, and you turned her down?"
Dylan shrugged, his eyes scouring the rough contours of the land he loved. An image of Rose as she'd looked moments ago, before she stormed off, came to him. Her glorious auburn hair a river of gold flecked with fire in the morning sunlight, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement, her lips pink and full and oh so inviting as she begged him to kiss her.
Dylan shook his head to bring himself back to reality. "She only wanted to jog her memory, Willy. It was hardly a romantic gesture."
Willy readjusted his camera and it whirred softly as he pointed it at Dylan's profile. "And you felt you couldn't oblige her because...?"
Dylan sighed and studied the empty coffee mug in his hand. "Because I can't afford for her to remember. Not just yet. I need more time."
Willy peered around the camcorder at him. "Time for what?"
"Time for her to fall in love with him again." Willy swung the camera so that it framed June Lowry peering at her son from the open doorway. "The only thing is, sweetheart, Rose never stopped loving you. It was the lifestyle you had all mapped out for her that she took offense to."
Dylan groaned. Even his own mother felt she had the right to stick her nose into his business.
"But this is my life," he growled.
June stepped toward Dylan and cradled her son's face in her powdery soft hands. "Yes, Dylan. And Rose was quite happy to be a part of that life. She just wasn't prepared to be consumed by it, that's all."
Dylan shook his head, aware that Willy was filming his every move. "She chose her career over me. It's as simple as that."
"Is it?" June asked. "What other choice did you offer her, son?"
Dylan whirled away and strode to the end of the porch. He didn't want to impede Rose's returning memory, he assured himself. He just wanted... What? For her to give up her job and be a housewife? Dylan shook his head. No, that wasn't the Rose he'd fallen in love with.
Behind him Willy tapped a foot impatiently. "So, what's your plan of action, buddy?" he prodded. "Rose is eventually going to remember that your goal to keep her barefoot and pregnant isn't exactly her lifelong ambition. If you ask me..."
Dylan rounded on his friend. "I didn't ask you," he snapped, stalking forward and jabbing a finger at the camcorder. "And if you don't put that thing down I'll be forced to..." Suddenly he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a horse and rider cantering off into the distance.



Chapter Five: Part Two

"Who is that?"
"Oh, yes," June suddenly recalled. "I originally came out here to let you know that Rose decided to go riding this morning."
Dylan's brow furrowed with concern. "You know she isn't supposed to be left alone!"
"Good gracious." June and Willy exchanged a knowing glance. "You'd better hurry after her then, hadn't you, dear?"
* * *
June was right, Rose had decided. If Dylan wasn't going to help her, she would have to do the next best thing — visit their favorite picnic spot by herself. She had been a little unsteady on the horse at first, but she was soon lulled by the rhythm of the gentle mare's steady stride. She admired the green countryside as it rolled past. Insects hummed and high above, a lone hawk sailed the thermals.
She crested a hilltop. Below, the lake Dylan had spoken of twinkled prettily amid a sea of waving grass and wildflowers.
The thundering of hooves dragged her attention from the splendid sight. Dylan drew his horse to a halt. Swinging a leg over his mount, he jumped easily to the ground. Rose marveled at the graceful way he moved, his muscles rippling under his shirt.
He turned and caught her rapt gaze.
Rose blushed and averted her eyes. "Just admiring the view," she admitted, head held high.
Dylan grinned and, placing his hands on her waist, helped her to dismount. She slid from the horse and found herself pressed against Dylan's chest, her hands resting on the bunched muscles of his upper arms. His palms slid to her hips, drawing her even closer.
Rose's breath caught in her throat. What had it been like to love and be loved by this man?
Abruptly she pulled away. Dylan had made it perfectly clear that, whatever they had once shared, it was now a thing of the past. She didn't want to make a fool of herself by swooning in his arms now.
Dylan drew a shuddering breath. God, she was beautiful. Intoxicating. And quite plainly not interested in him. He kicked moodily at the dirt under his boot.
"I don't want you to go off like that again, Rose. You shouldn't be alone."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, don't go...."
Her stunning blue eyes flashed fire. "I heard what you said, Dylan. Still trying to run my life, as always."
Dylan's blood ran cold at her words, but Rose obviously didn't yet realize the implications of what she'd said.
"This is not the dark ages," she went on. "You are not my master and I will not follow your every command."
"Rose! Stop it."
"Loving you doesn't mean I have to give up everything else, does it, Dylan?"
"No, of course not! I only meant —"
"I can't even bake a pie," Rose cried. "How on earth could I ever make you happy?" Her trembling fingers fluttered to her lips as realization struck and her memory came flooding back. Tears sprang to her eyes.
In two strides he was there, pulling her to him, his hand winding in her hair, lips softly kissing the tears from her cheeks before claiming the soft sweetness of her mouth.

Chapter Six

.Dylan's kiss was gentle. It was meant to soothe, not to arouse; but it was enough to remind Rose of the passion they'd once shared. She moaned. The breath left her body in a shudder, and her toes curled in her boots. She twined her arms more tightly around his shoulders.
But his kiss didn't deepen.
Rose pulled away, confused and upset. "Was that a kiss out of pity?"
With a groan deep in his throat, Dylan pulled her to him. He cupped her face in his hands, and his lips met hers in a hot, sultry kiss that spoke of everything he'd held in restraint the past few days.
Rose gave herself up to Dylan's kiss. At that moment, nothing mattered except the love and passion between them. She returned his kiss hungrily.
But in the next instant, reality returned. She couldn't delude herself, or Dylan — they both wanted very different things from life, and there was no point getting involved again as long as that was the case.
Rose pushed at his broad shoulders. "No. We have to stop. This is wrong."
He brushed his lips along her forehead and his breath ruffled her hair. "No, it's right. Very right."
"Dylan, please. Nothing's changed between us. Let's not fool ourselves into thinking things are different now."
His grip around her tightened, then he released her. He turned and walked away a few steps. Rose could tell from the tension in his shoulders that he was trying to maintain his self-control.
"What do you remember?" Dylan asked, turning around.
"You wanted me to stay, but only if I gave up my dreams and followed yours instead."
He blanched, but didn't contradict her assessment of their past. "And you had something to prove. To me and to the world."
She nodded. The returning memory of her impoverished childhood flooded her heart. "My father was always drunk, always unemployed. My mother and I never knew if we'd have food on the table or a roof over our heads. Mom could have gotten a job, but she refused — she didn't want to hurt Dad's stubborn pride. I learned early in life that I couldn't depend on anyone except myself. I had to prove that I could take care of myself."
"And you have proven that — admirably," he said, stepping toward her. "Isn't it time for something else in your life besides a high-powered career?" More than a simple question lay behind his words. He wanted to know if she'd exorcised her demons, if she was ready to leave her career behind for a life with him.
Rose shook her head. "That's not the point, Dylan. I didn't want to have to choose between you and my career, but you left me no choice." Now it was her turn to ask the tough question. "Do you still want June Cleaver? Or are you ready to accept a wife who has her own interests, aside from yours?"
He raked his fingers through his hair in an obvious sign of frustration. The air thickened with tension.
This was it. She'd taken a step. Would he?
The silence grew between them. Rose couldn't prevent the sudden tightening of her stomach or the bunching of her shoulders. She could see Dylan's emotions play across his face as he thought about his answer.
Rose grew tired of waiting. "Never mind, Dylan. Your silence is the only answer I'll ever need." Quickly she strode toward her horse, jumped into the saddle, and goaded the mare into a quick trot. Without a backward glance, she headed back toward the ranch.
Dylan swore and kicked the ground. Why hadn't he answered her? Probably because he didn't know how, he grudgingly admitted to himself. He still wasn't sure what he wanted. All his life he'd dreamed of the kind of warm, homespun family that he'd grown up with. Was it too late for him to change now?
A swaying movement behind a bush caught his eye. Dylan turned, just in time to hear Willy's muttered oath as he fumbled with his camcorder.
"Hey, don't mind me," Willy said sheepishly, standing up. "I thought if I followed you guys up here, I'd get some great candid shots. I just need to change the tape in this thing.… Just pretend I'm not here."
Trembling with both anger and embarrassment, Dylan stormed toward Willy.
* * *
When Rose entered the kitchen, June greeted her warmly. "Oh, hello Rose. You're just in time for lunch." She glanced behind Rose. "Where's Dylan?"
"I left him up at the meadow. He's got some serious thinking to do."
A look of understanding crossed the older woman's face.



Chapter Six: Part Two

Rose twisted her hands, and took a deep breath. She had to ask a favor of June. She hated asking another for help. Just say it quick and don't think about it, she coached herself.
"June, would you show me how to bake a pie?"
"Why, I haven't baked a pie in years." June laughed.
"What? But Dylan was always talking about your great pies."
"Come here, and I'll show you a little secret." June led her to the large chest freezer and pointed to a few boxes in the very bottom. "You buy these in the store and thaw them out."
Rose eyed the frozen pumpkin, apple, and strawberry pies. "But doesn't Dylan see those?"
June laughed with a touch of irony. "For a minute there, I thought you were suggesting that that boy of mine looked into the freezer." They shared a moment of laughter together, then June patted her on the shoulder. "Rose, I know things are confusing right now. I never had a daughter, but for a while there I thought you were going to be my first. You can come to me if you need to talk."
An overwhelming urge to open up, to share engulfed Rose. How easy it would be to lay her problems at this understanding woman's feet. But she had learned the lesson of relying on herself early in her life, and the words would not come.
With sadness, Rose reached for June's hand and squeezed. As if sensing her mood, June changed the subject and pointed out the ******** "While you and Dylan were out riding, the mechanic returned your car."
"That didn't take long." The blood pounded in Rose's ears as realization flooded her mind. She had her car. Her memory. Her freedom.
"It appears the car had less damage than you did."
"If you'll excuse me, I'll go upstairs and rest. The ride took a little more out of me than I expected."
Concern washed over June's face. "You do look a little pale. I'll come and check on you in a few hours."
Rose forced herself to walk to her room calmly. She sat on the bed, but she didn't feel like resting. Instead, every nerve in her body jangled with tension. Dylan would be back any minute. Rose didn't want to face another ugly confrontation with the man she had once loved — still loved. What was the point? He would never change. It would be best if they never saw each other again.
She felt fine. She could go at any time.
So why did she feel guilty reaching for her suitcase?
She opened the closet, pulled out her few clothes, and placed them in the suitcase.
* * *
Dylan opened the sliding door and stepped into the kitchen, followed by a disheveled Willy. "Mom?" he called.
June rushed into the room, tears streaming down her face. "Oh Dylan, thank God you're back!"
"What's wrong, Mom?" Dylan's face creased with concern. Fear gripped his heart as a terrible thought crossed his mind. "Has something happened to Rose?"
June nodded. "She's gone, Dylan! I was in the pantry when I heard her car start. I ran outside and tried to stop her, but she was already halfway down the driveway.…"
Dylan didn't stay to hear the rest. He was already on his way to the garage, where his pickup was parked.

Chapter Seven

Dylan slammed the door of his truck and backed out of the garage.
"Son, wait," his mother called from the driveway.
"Mom, I've got to —"
"You've got to hear what I have to say." June wiped her hands on her ever-present apron and smoothed it back into place as he rolled the window down and put the truck in park.
"I'm kinda in a hurry, Mom." He buckled his seat belt, wondering where Rose had gone. Home? Work?
"I quit."
"I don't know where... What did you say?" He looked at his mother's serious face.
June placed her hands firmly on her hips, reminding him of when he was a teenager and she'd caught him in a lie. "I said, I quit."
"You can't quit, Mom." His forced laugh caught in his throat. "You live here."
"And I can continue to live here without washing clothes or *****ng meals that are hardly eaten except as leftovers. I'm ready for a change."
She patted her silvering hair and looked down the road. "I was thinking about going to school. I've always been interested in real estate."
"Real estate? Now my mother's going to sell off the very land that's given four generations of Lowrys our meat and potatoes?
"It's not as if it wasn't bad enough that the woman I've always loved goes against everything I stand for. Now, in less than 24 hours she's managed to convince you to build useless mini-malls over every hilltop."
Dylan banged the steering wheel as he realized he'd shouted at his mother. Not only shouted at her, but admitted that he still loved... He could hardly breathe his chest was so tight with hurt. First Rose, now his Mom.
June placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is hard for you to accept, dear. What do you think I do all day while you're out chasing cows? Darn socks? If my ancient memory serves, you bought your own socks at one of those mini-malls you detest so much."



Chapter Seven: Part Two

He didn't want to see the truth in his mother's eyes and preferred staring past the stockyards at the land that meant so much to him. His mother's gentle tugging on his chin turned his head. He opened his mouth, but shut it again. He never had been any good arguing with another Lowry.
"My wanting a change has nothing to do with Rose. Well, maybe a little, but not how you think. Talking to her again didn't make me wonder what I've been missing, but what you've been missing."
The sobering truth hit him. He'd been missing a lot and had received his mother's message loud and clear.
"I've got to go, Mom." He added a smile. "Don't wait up."
* * *
"That's ridiculous, Eric. There's nothing wrong with me. I don't need a doctor's release before I come back to work." Rose listened to her assistant repeat his words. "Okay, okay. I'll take the rest of the day off."
Standing in her kitchen, she stared at the book she'd been thumbing through. A cookbook. One of many she'd collected but never used.
"Drat you, Dylan! This is all your fault," she told the rarely used kitchen.
"I can cook anything I want." She pushed the book away from her and looked around the immaculate kitchen, which held every *****ng gadget imaginable. She moved closer to a stainless steel, rather scary-looking instrument that held a number of blades in its evil, smiling mouth and wondered what it did. Surely something as terrifying as that couldn't be involved in making a pie?
* * *
Much later, Rose noticed it was getting harder to read and realized the sun was setting. She flipped on the kitchen light when the doorbell rang.
Her heart lurched as she wondered if it could be… She closed the kitchen door behind her as she went to the front door and saw through the window that it was indeed Dylan. Why was he here? Why now after all the times she'd hoped he would come to tell her he'd changed his mind. Who was she kidding? The impossible Mr. Lowry would never change his mind.
"Are you going to ask me in?" He rested against the porch rail, one ankle casually crossed over the other. His brown eyes twinkled as if he knew something she didn't.
"No. We have nothing to discuss. Just give me whatever I forgot at your ranch and leave." She held out her hand.
Her knees nearly melted when he took her hand and caressed it between his callused fingertips. His crooked smile shocked her to the tips of her toes. But when he tenderly pulled her finger into his mouth, an explosion of memory shot through every vein in her body.
"Is that flour?" he asked, his voice husky.
Rose opened her eyes, her heart stuck in her throat. She yanked her hand away. "What are you really doing here?"
"You asked me a question. I came to give you my answer, but I'd like to say it in the privacy of your home."



Chapter Seven: Part Three

Rose stepped into the house to give him entrance and realized something was terribly wrong.
"I think something's burning." Dylan gently pushed past her, heading toward the kitchen — which was about to become a raging inferno from the amount of smoke belching out of it.
Rose barely managed to grab the back of his jeans to halt him in the living room. "This is my house, I'll take care of it."
"Don't be silly, Rose. Something's on fire." He swiftly turned and gave her his "are you crazy?" look.
"Dylan Lowry, you are not to step foot in that kitchen!"
He sidestepped her again and with a single look, dared her to stop him. It was too late. White smoke billowed from her oven door. Dylan grabbed the hot pads and pulled a charred mass from the rack.
Looking away from his huge silly grin, above the countertops still streaked with discarded dough and flour, Rose glanced the red light of Willy's camcorder through the ********
Her day was utterly and completely ruined...along with her fourth attempt at an apple pie.

Chapter Eight

."Willy! Would you like a piece of home-baked apple pie?" Without ceremony, Rose threw up the sash on the window over her sink and heaved the smoldering lump of charcoal in his direction.
"Oww!"
Dylan suppressed a grin. He knew better than to try to reason with her when she was this cranked up.
Rose whirled to face him and smiled sweetly. "How about you? Pie?"
"I think Willy got all the best pieces." He glanced out the window to see Willy dust himself off, make a quick check of his video gear, then head for the kitchen door. That was all right. Having this momentous occasion recorded for posterity might not be such a bad idea.
Rose's energy flagged and her face crumpled. "I…wanted to surprise you. To show you that the accident taught me that there is more to life than the next real estate deal."
Without taking his eyes from her plaintive expression, Dylan addressed Willy as he came through the door. "You getting this?"
"Rollin', baby."
"Good. 'Cause I'm going to need to remind her from time to time that there is more to life than work. Especially after we get married."
Rose's eyes widened. "Married?"
"We're getting married."
"We are?"



Chapter Eight: Part Two

Dylan reached behind him for a wooden kitchen chair and dragged it to his side. Gently, he urged Rose to take a seat as he knelt before her. "Rose, I was a fool and almost lost you twice. Once, when I stuck to some archaic idea of what I wanted in a marriage…"
Rose's jaw dropped. Slowly, her gaze swung to Willy. "You getting all this?"
"Rollin', baby."
"And the second time was when I saw you lying so pale and lifeless in the front seat of your car after the accident." Dylan took her hand and kissed her knuckles, and knew that he'd never be happy again without this beautiful, spunky, maddening woman at his side.
"Suddenly, I was able to see what I nearly lost to stubborn pride. Rose, I love you. More than my land. More than my cattle —"
"Willy?"
"Rollin'!"
"— more than anything. If you'll have me, nothing would make me happier than if you'd agree to be my wife."
"Career and all?"
"Career and all."
"You want to marry me? Even knowing that my apple pies would make better tractor tires than desserts?"
"Murder weapons," Willy muttered.
"Shut up," Rose ordered.
Dylan laughed. "I figure you and Mom can shop the freezer section on your way home from work together."
Rose's gaze narrowed. "All this time you knew your mother's pies weren't from scratch?"
"Yes, but don't tell her. She gets a kick out of pretending to be domestic."
"So will I." Eyes bright, lips tremulous, she felt a tear of joy slip down her cheek. "Oh, Dylan. I love you, too. And I'd love to live out on your ranch and have your children and bake your pies and learn to drive cattle."



Chapter Eight: Part Three

Dylan slowly stood, drawing Rose into his embrace.
"Sweetheart, cattle don't much like to be driven around in flashy little sports cars, but I appreciate the sentiment. And I'll take you up on the pies and babies as soon as possible."
"Mmm." Rose smiled as Dylan lowered his mouth to hers. "The sooner, the better."
After a kiss that left them both winded, Dylan pulled back and rested his nose against hers. "Willy?"
"Yeah?"
"Get out of here."

EPILOGUE

Applause rang out as Willy bounded up to accept his "Best ********ary" statue.
After several minutes the hullabaloo died down and Willy was able to begin his speech. "First and foremost, I'd like to thank the Academy. I'm truly stunned."
Wearing a jack-o-lantern grin, Willy fumbled with his notes. "Dazed. Confused. And thrilled. Uhh, okay. I'd also like to thank Rose and Dylan Lowry for allowing me to intrude in their personal lives for several months. They were real sports. And, June, doll face, you bake a mean pie when you're not handling Rose's real estate deals. And Rose, if you're watching this, try not to have that baby tonight. I want to be there to record the sequel to this drama.
"Thank you, and good night!"
The End