Banner made by mary mary, otherwise known as the glorious Ginger. Thanks.
-----Second Place, Round 15 - Best Alternate Universe with Aliens
-----Second Place, Round 15 - Come Back! You Can't Leave it There! Best Cliffhangers
Title: Home on the Range
Author: Cardinal
Rating: Adult, mostly because I have no idea what's going to happen. I may need the flexibility.
Disclaimer: All the characters, except for my self-created supporting characters, belong to the usual suspects...WB, UPN, Jason Katims, and Melinda Metz.
Everyone but me.
Shit.
If I had an ownership interest in this property, season two would NOT have happened the way it did.
A/N:I originally intended this fic idea for a different fandom, but decided recently that it fit Roswell a little bit better. It will primarily be a Dreamer fic, but I fully intend to work in as many of the other primary characters as I can.
Chapter 1
Red Dirt Road
Liz checked her Blackberry one last time before grabbing her carry-on and climbing into the limo for the long ride to Heathrow Airport. The rest of her luggage was already packed in the trunk, but a major movie star like her wouldn’t so much as lay a finger on any of it until she reached her destination and needed something fresh to wear. Because she hated dealing with the beefed-up security at airports these days, Liz wasn’t even going to fly commercial. As a small part of her contract for agreeing to make the just-concluded sequel to her mega-hit movie Hard to Handle, she was off on a two-week all-expenses paid vacation, including exclusive use of the studio’s Gulfstream G-550 executive jet.
As the single flight attendant welcomed her on board with a tulip glass of her favorite drink, which was well-chilled champagne, she checked to make sure the champagne handed to her was the contractually insisted upon Krug before she took so much as a single sip.
By the time the plane was ready for takeoff, the champagne glass was empty. Liz handed the empty glass to the flight attendant and buckled herself in after reluctantly turning off her Blackberry. Getting into the takeoff pattern took some time, but once in the air and at cruising altitude, Liz unbuckled her belt and asked for a second glass of champagne. After emptying the second glass, she asked for a pillow and a blanket so she could spend as much of the flight sleeping as she could. The alcohol did its job, and the plane’s sole passenger drifted off to a deep, comfortable sleep…much to the delight of the flight attendant.
Liz woke up somewhere over the continental U.S., many hours later, only to be informed it was raining at Dallas/Fort Worth Airport and they might be a little late getting her on the ground. She didn’t mind, as the delay gave her plenty of time to primp after the long flight so she’d look her best once they were able to land. She checked her outfit in the bathroom mirror and was surprised by how neat it still was. On top she wore a champagne-colored babydoll blouse with black shoulder straps, a jeweled bust, and a black sash along its empire waist. Her legs were covered by flat front, straight-legged black slacks, and her shoes were black silk peep-toe stilettos with a diamond-encrusted bow above each open toe.
Liz looked herself in the eye. She was smoking hot and knew it.
She then spent a last few minutes brushing her hair before the plane and its crew began landing procedures. Once again buckled in, she grimaced as the least-pleasant part of flying started: the landing. She had done some reading once and discovered that most airplane accidents happen during landing attempts. Ever since that day, Liz had become a white-knuckled lander. She had nothing to worry about today, though, not even in the light rain, because her pilots were talented and made the landing as smooth as glass.
When the sleek Gulfstream jet pulled up to a waiting limo, Liz gathered her bag and waited for the steps to be lowered into place before leaving her seat and scurrying through the light rain into the warm, dry comfort of the stretch Mercedes. A short wait ensued as her luggage was unloaded from the plane and stored in the limo’s trunk. The driver had been fully briefed on where to go, and thus she had no need to talk to the man as he slid behind the wheel and drove them away from the airport. Liz pulled out her Blackberry to check her messages and her e-mail while still in range of the cell phone towers of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex.
Once done, she sat back and smiled, knowing her legion of adoring fans would shit themselves sideways if they knew where she was spending her vacation. No beachfront super-luxury hotel, no snow skiing in Chile, no shopping sprees in New York, not even an extreme sport vacation like last year when she’d gone bungee jumping in New Zealand. Nope, this time, Liz was doing something that harkened back to her days as a child in semi-arid southeastern New Mexico.
Back then, her Grandma Claudia had owned a small ranch a little ways east of Albuquerque, and a much younger Liz Parker had spent many happy vacation days on the back of her very own pony. Long before being discovered by Hollywood and even before her high school dream of becoming a molecular biologist, her very first career wish had been to be a real, live cowgirl.
Now was her chance.
Liz was scheduled to spend two weeks at a real, live dude ranch deep in the heart of Texas.
The first real blemish on her day was the rain, which instead of slacking off, kept increasing in intensity with each additional mile. Almost unseen as they passed below it in the darkness was an overhead archway sign that showed an ‘L’ flat on its back next to the word ‘Ranch.’ Liz knew from the brochure she’d read at her travel agent’s office that it meant the name of the place was the Lazy L Ranch, or the Lazy L for short.
The sign wasn’t a problem, but the road lying immediately beneath it was. Having been red clay before the torrential rains, the road was now a depthless quagmire of thick, gooey red mud, which caused the limo to get stuck almost instantly.
The limo driver opened the window between his compartment and hers, and said the first words she’d heard from the man all night. “Miss Parker? We’re stuck. If you intend on getting to the ranch house tonight, you’re going to have to call and have them send someone to pick you up.”
“Freaking incompetent!” Liz muttered, making sure to say it just loud enough that the driver would hear her. She dug out her Blackberry, called up the number for the ranch, and placed her call. “Yes,” she said brightly, “this is Liz Parker calling…no, I’m not canceling on you. In fact, I’m sitting in my limo near the beginning of the mud road that leads to your location…Yes, I am aware of how bad of an idea it was to hire a limo to come out here…Yes, I am stuck. I’m calling with the hope you could send someone out here to get me…Yes, now, in the pouring rain.” She couldn’t believe the way people acted sometimes. “I’d be happy to pay extra for the service.” Liz chuckled silently. A little money always greases the wheel.
Five minutes later, Max slammed his phone down on the base and stormed off to find his rubber boots, raingear, and an umbrella. He’d just received a call in the bunkhouse from the ranch owner, begging him to take the 4x4 Chevy Suburban down the nearly fifteen miles of dirt road to the ranch entrance to pick up a guest named Liz Parker, who had been stupid enough to turn down their standard offer to pick her up at the airport with the rest of the guests. The ranch owner’s last piece of advice had been to tell him the woman was some kind of movie star, and from what he’d just heard over the phone, she had the diva attitude to prove it.
This was supposed to be my last day off before we start in with the whole tourist thing tomorrow, Max thought. Goddamn it!
Minutes later, he was dressed in battered yellow rain slicker, matching hat, and knee-high rubber boots. He had a large golf umbrella in one hand and the keys to the Suburban in the other. Climbing in and firing up the engine, he muttered a nearly inaudible string of curses under his breath as he started the long, slow drive on the awful road.Max turned on a local AM country radio station that liked to play Merle Haggard and George Jones and started tapping the fingertips of one hand on the leather-wrapped steering wheel as he drove along.
It took nearly half an hour for the behemoth SUV to make it to the limo, a fact that was not about to make Liz happy. As an A-list star, she was used to instant service, with people jumping through hoops to make her happy. Waiting was not something she did well.
When she saw the driver of the SUV climb out and head for the trunk of the limo, which the limo driver had just popped open, she snickered involuntarily upon seeing the yellow raingear and thought, I’m about to be saved by the Gorton’s fisherman.
Liz saw her bags get unceremoniously dumped in the back of the SUV, a fact that pissed her off as those bags were Louis Vuitton and cost two-to-three thousand dollars apiece. When the bags were secured, the yellow-clad driver of the SUV waded through the thick mud to her door and popped open the umbrella he’d collected from the driver’s side door. She gathered her bag and waited for the umbrella to cover her door before she unlocked it so the fisherman could open it for her.
“Come on, Miss Parker,” Max said kindly, as the rain kept coming down in buckets, “let’s get you inside the Suburban where it’s nice and dry.”
Liz was appreciative of the umbrella, but one look at the mud convinced her she wasn’t going anywhere. “I can’t.”
That wasn’t what Max wanted to hear. “What do you mean you can’t?”
“I mean that mud is deeper than my ankle, my shoes are made of silk, and those are real diamonds down there.” Liz pointed to her toes just in case Max had missed the glittering stones. “The mud would ruin my shoes. Those are Jimmy Choos down there and they probably cost more than your entire wardrobe, you hick.”
Max’s eyes darkened as he lowered himself enough to peer into the limo at the recalcitrant guest. “Well then, Miss Parker, I have no idea at all how you intend to get from here into the Suburban, ‘cause ain’t nobody gonna roll out a red carpet for you here. So you’ve got two choices: either get out and walk, or take your shoes off, and then get out and walk.”
Liz was incensed by her treatment, though she couldn’t really say what she had wanted the guy to do for her. But as she slipped off her Jimmy Choos and carefully placed them into her bag, she was glaring at the guy and muttering imprecations all the while. She then rolled up her pant legs to her knees before stomping out of the limo, under the cover of Max’s umbrella. When she got to the back door of the Suburban, he opened the door for her and offered a hand to her to assist her in climbing into the vehicle, a gentlemanly gesture she had not expected.
“Thank you,” Liz said quietly, as Max nodded his head in acknowledgement and closed the door. He then offered the limo driver a ride in the front seat down to the ranch house to wait out the storm in comfort, but the guy regretfully declined since he already had a tow truck on the way to dig him out of the muck and mire.
Max finally climbed back into the driver’s seat of the Suburban and drove it out to the main road, which was paved with asphalt, before turning it around and heading back down the long mud road for the thirty minute drive back to the ranch house.
As the truck plowed through the mud, Liz fiddled with her Blackberry, mostly to see if she still got reception, and was surprised to see she did. When she asked about it, Max replied that the ranch owners had allowed a couple of cell phone towers to be installed on the property, both for the rent money the cell phone company was paying, and so that their guests could have the convenience of their phones while at the ranch house.
“Thank you,” Liz said. Realizing she didn’t know the man’s name, she said, “Since we’re going to be together all the way back to the house, it would be good for us to formally introduce ourselves. I’ll go first. I’m Liz Parker.”
Max kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, as driving in these conditions, even with four-wheel drive, was rather dicey. “It may be good for you, Miss Parker,” Max began, “but not for me. I don’t plan on talking all that much and none of what I say will require you to know this hick’s name.”
Liz was surprised by the man’s refusal to tell her his name, as most people, especially men, tended to fall all over themselves trying to get on her good side once they learned who she was. She was tempted to make sure he knew she was a famous actress, but she didn’t want to show any weakness. Instead, she used her phone to call the ranch house and asked the person she had talked to earlier what her driver’s name was.
“Ah, it’s Max Evans?…Thank you…Yes, he’s being childish about not giving me his name, so I thought I’d ask you…Thank you again.” Liz shut down her Blackberry and looked at the back of Max’s head with a superior look upon her face. “So, Max, are we going to reach the ranch house before sunrise?”
Max gripped the wheel a little tighter and gritted his teeth. “If you’re not happy with my driving, Miss Parker, you’re more than welcome to get out and walk.” Liz’s mouth popped open like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. When she didn’t reply, he said, “That’s what I thought. You sit back and let me handle the driving and we’ll get there in one piece.”
Liz just sat there and fumed as Max carefully guided them down the sloppy mud road. They reached the ranch house, just as Max promised, a good thirty minutes after leaving the limo. The rain was still coming down hard, and because of that, she was looking around to see if the house had a covered carport for loading and unloading vehicles in relative comfort. No such luck.
Max made every effort, however, to park the Suburban as close to the front door as he could. That still left a few feet of mud for Liz to cross, but now that her feet were already caked with mud from earlier, she didn’t mind quite so much. He grabbed the umbrella and moved quickly to her door, opened it, and escorted her just inside the front door. Once she was safely inside, he went back to the SUV, collected her luggage and carried it inside.
By the time Max set Liz’s Louis Vuitton bags down next to her, someone from the ranch staff was already fetching a bowl of warm water, some soap, and a towel to help her clean her feet. As she waited, she thanked him for bringing in her bags and looked up at him to get her first really good look at her erstwhile rescuer, and involuntarily took a deep breath as she saw just how gorgeous, how beautiful, his face was. Never before in her life had she thought a man to be beautiful, but Max Evans was. Undeniably so. It was just too bad he was a jerk, because she knew vigorous sex with a gorgeous cowboy would add some extra spice to this vacation.
Max tipped his yellow rain hat toward Liz and backed out of the ranch house. He put the Suburban where it belonged, leaving the doors unlocked, before heading back to the bunkhouse where all the cowboys lived when at the ranch house.
One other guy was already in the bunkhouse ahead of him, hanging his sodden clothes to dry. “Hey, Max,” the blond cowboy said, “why are you all dressed up? I thought you were off tonight.”
“I was, Kyle,” Max said, as he took off the rain slicker and its hat to hang them by the door, “but the old man called me up special and asked me to go pick up some movie star who was stuck in the mud down at the end of the road, out by the highway.”
The mention of a movie star perked Kyle right up. He sat down on his bunk and asked, “Who is it? Anyone I know?”
Max kicked off his rubber boots, stuck his arms inside them, and held them out in the rain to wash them off. Once he was satisfied they were clean, he set them down just inside the door and closed it behind him before answering Kyle’s question.
“Maybe someone you know. Maybe not.”
“Well, tell me, Dumbass,” Kyle insisted.
“Some hot bitch by the name of Liz Parker, and I emphasize both the ‘hot’ and the ‘bitch.’”
Kyle nearly rolled off of his bed in his excitement at learning that Liz Parker, the Liz Parker, was a guest at the ranch he worked on. Catching himself from falling just in time, Kyle blurted, “You have got to be shitting me!”
“Nope. She introduced herself in the Suburban, which just confirmed what Mr. Luzinski had already told me.”
Max took a seat on the foot of his own bed and stripped off the tight-fitting gray t-shirt he’d had on underneath the rain slicker. His tooled brown leather belt was next and then his slightly faded Levi’s. Last to go were his white socks, leaving him only in his boxers as he climbed into his bed and made sure his alarm clock was turned on. The only light left on in the bunkhouse was a small table lamp next to Kyle’s bed; Max knew he could live with that.
“Describe her to me,” Kyle pled, speaking quietly in case Max preferred to drift off to sleep.
“Hot.” That one-word assessment earned him a growl from Kyle. “I don’t know, what do you want me to say? She’s is hot. I’d do her, if she wasn’t such a bitch.”
“Aww…come on, Dude, you’re killing me here. Liz Parker is my number-one-all-time fantasy girl. You’ve gotta be able to do better than that.”
“Okay, let me see what I remember…”
“Don’t give me that,” Kyle warned, “I know you have a memory like a steel trap.”
Max eyed Kyle in the near dark. “She’s short, but not too short, with long, silky, dark brown hair…she’s got gorgeous eyes that look to be brown, or maybe even hazel, but it was hard to tell since it was dark and I didn’t get that much of a look at her face…cutest little button of a nose…small, curvaceous lips, just begging to be kissed…and a nice, tight little fuckable bod.”
Kyle sighed in a way that made Max think his coworker was about to start wanking the plank. “That’s my Liz.”
“But you should have seen what the bitch was wearing.” Max rolled his eyes at the memory of Liz’s sexy outfit that was totally inappropriate for a dude ranch. “She had on this pale gold top that looked like a cross between a tank top and a short dress. Then some fairly plain black pants, which actually would be okay around here as long as she wasn’t planning on getting dirty, and then the world’s most ridiculous shoes.
“I mean, those things were made out of black silk and had actual diamonds on top. What kind of moron wears shoes like those to a ranch, where everything is either dirt or shit?”
Still captivated by his dream of the Hollywood star, Kyle mostly missed what Max had said. “Yeah, whatever you say, Max. I just hope I get her in my group in the morning.” Kyle climbed into his own bed and turned out his light. “Maybe if I offer Nando a bribe…”