Cowboy's Bride (12 page)

She grinned.
"You probably do.
First hand,
too, I'd bet."

"You'd win."

"Here's the ice." Becky stood in the
doorway, watching warily.

Trace stood up and turned to get it.
He met
her eyes, his own cautious.

"Are you taking her into town?" she asked
her dad.

"No."

"But she probably needs to see a doctor.
And
then she can go home."

"Home?"

"She's not a rancher, Dad.
You said so, and
today proves it.
She should just go back to Boston and let you have
the ranch."

Trace smiled and ruffled her hair.
"She
should, pumpkin, but my bet is she won't."

"And you'd win," Kalli called, annoyed that
even his daughter wanted her gone.

Becky looked around her father at Kalli,
anger and frustration in her expression.
"If my dad didn't help you
out, you'd be gone in a flash.
You don't know nothing about
ranching."

"That’s enough Becky," Trace said sharply.
He set the ice pack on the edge of the bed and looked at Kalli.
"Where do you keep your nightgowns?"

"I sleep in T-shirts," she said, remembering
that morning.
"In the second drawer, on the left." Suddenly the
aches and pains fled.
She could only watch as Trace opened her
bureau drawer.
She imagined his eyes on the frilly underwear lying
beside the practical cotton T-shirts she'd taken from her
brothers.

He withdrew a navy shirt with Boston Red Sox
in big red letters.

"Whose was this?" It was obviously a man's
shirt.
Who did she know intimately enough to use his shirt to sleep
in?
His gut tightened, and his hand fisted around the shirt.

"That one's my brother Pete's," she
said.

His eyes met hers.
And the one this
morning?

As clearly as if he'd said it aloud, she
knew what he was asking.
Smiling a little, she whispered, "I also
have some from my brother Mark."

He tossed her the shirt, relief spreading
through him.
"Can you manage by yourself, or do you need help?"

"I can manage."

"How about your jeans?"

Her jeans.
How would she get them off
without jarring her ankle?

"Becky, go look in the bathroom for some
aspirin.
Get her a glass of water, too," Trace ordered.

When she was gone, he reached out to help
Kalli.
He unfastened the snap, drew down the zipper.
Ignoring the
pale pink panties that scarcely covered her, he lifted her hips and
eased the denim over them.
Settling her back on the bed, he gently
peeled the jeans from her, taking care with her injured ankle.
Sweat broke out on his forehead with the effort he made to keep his
eyes from seeking the dark shadow behind the pale pink lace.
Her
thighs were slender, shapely, soft.
Her foot was small, delicate,
like the rest of her, he noted as he eased the socks off.
His
fingers ached to brush across that satiny skin, to trail up to the
apex of her thighs and again fed her deep, fiery heat.

Kalli clutched the navy T-shirt against her,
trying to hide her breasts, feeling disoriented and shaky inside.
She knew he was only helping her out, but the touch of his hands
against her legs was almost more than she could stand.

His gaze met hers, held.
The fire that had
been banked began to build again.
He leaned forward slowly and
pulled her into a sitting position, his eyes never leaving hers.
As
if in slow motion, he reached behind her and released her bra.
Pulling the T-shirt from her lifeless fingers, he opened her shirt,
pulling it and the bra from her.
She was so beautiful.
Her breasts
were firm and plump, crowned with dusty pink nipples that were
already tight with promise.
She was so slender and soft, like the
brush of the sweetest wildflower in spring.

Trace wanted to touch her, fed the silken
texture of her soft skin.
Taste the unique flavors of her body.
Lose himself in her and forget everything.
But now was not the
time.
Kalli was hurting.
And he heard the running water in the
bathroom.
His daughter would be back in only seconds.
Regretfully,
he handed Kalli the T-shirt and rose, taking three difficult steps
away.

Kalli also heard the water, knew Becky would
be back in an instant.
She yanked on the T-shirt, wincing only
slightly as her sore shoulder strained against the fabric.
Once
safely covered, she drew the side of the coverlet over her bare
legs.
It didn't cover her feet and she stared at her swollen ankle,
already twice the size of her other one.

While Becky folded Kali's clothes and laid
them on a nearby chair, Trace found a scarf and bound up her ankle.
"That'll have to do until later.
We have a complete first-aid kit
at home and I'll get an Ace bandage to immobilize your foot.
If
you're not feeling better in the morning, maybe we'll take a run
into town and have it x-rayed."

"It’s only sprained.
It already feels
better," Kalli said, settling back against her pillows.
She ached
from head to foot, and probably would for a couple of days.
But she
wasn't seriously injured.
And was still in charge of her ranch.
She
hoped Trace understood that.

"Thank you for all your help," she told
them.

Trace nodded, reluctant to leave.
She looked
so small, so helpless in the big bed.
How would she manage?

"Trace, before you leave, tell Charlie and
Josh, okay?
Then they can come check on me," Kalli said.

Like hell they would.
There was no way he
was going to let those rough cowboys in to see her in her bed.
See
her in those soft T-shirts that molded her figure like a second
skin.
Let them see her silky legs, indecent panties.

"I'll be back to fix your supper, make sure
you are okay for the night."

"No need.
One of the men can see to it."

"I'll be back!"

6

When Kalli awoke, it was dark.
She lay still
in the quiet night, loath to move.
She ached from head to toe.
Her
ankle throbbed lightly, enough to let her know it was sore, but not
enough to wake her.
Her shoulder was tender.
She rolled over,
stifling a moan.
She sat up on the edge of the bed.
Slowly she
rose, hopped to the bathroom, each step painfully jarring her
already hurting body.

On her way back, the hall light flicked on,
then the door to her room which had been left slightly ajar, was
pushed open.
Trace stood silhouetted in the frame.

"What are you doing?" he asked, taking in
her disheveled appearance, her tousled hair, the T-shirt that fell
to her thighs, the swollen ankle she was trying to keep from
touching the floor.

"I needed the bathroom.
What are you doing
here?" she asked belligerently, holding onto the door jamb to the
bath.
The best offense, she told herself as she felt a wave of pure
pleasure crash over her at the sight of him.

"Taking care of you." He walked across the
room and swept her up into his arms.
Turning, he began walking to
the bed.

"I don't want to go back to bed.
I've been
asleep for hours and I'm hungry," she said, encircling his neck
with one arm, trying to maintain some sane distance between them.
Which was about as easy as staying on a bucking horse.
She was, out
of necessity, pressed tight against his chest.
The strong arms that
held her locked in place were warm beneath her bare legs, through
the thin cotton of her shirt.
His face was only inches from hers.
She could see the small lines radiating from his dark eyes and
could smell his tangy scent.

He hesitated then turned toward the open
door.
"I'll fix you something to eat."

"I thought I told you to tell Charlie or
Josh about me.
Charlie could have brought me something for
dinner."

"I have no intention of letting a bunch of
randy cowboys raid your room with you dressed like this," he
muttered as they reached the kitchen.
She didn't weigh anything.
She could stand to gain a few more pounds.

"I'm the owner here," she said impotently.
Randy cowboys?
The only one randy around here was her, and only
when he was so close.
Shyly she let her fingers touch his neck.
That's all.
Just a touch.
But she didn't expect the tingling to
spread throughout her body from where her fingertips touched
him.

"You're the owner, but I give the orders,"
Trace replied as he gently placed her in a chair.
"What do you want
to eat?"

"What does it matter, you'll decide and feed
me whatever you want.” She hated being dependent on him when she
was trying so hard to show she was up to running this ranch.

"Don't sulk, it's unbecoming," he chided
gently.
In only minutes he was cutting vegetables and cheese for an
omelet.

"I'm not sulking.
You frustrate me to death,
Trace," she grumbled, watching him work.
It seemed odd to have such
a blatantly masculine male in her kitchen, cooking for her.
Her
brothers never did.
For all his smoothness in the task, he looked
out of place.
In fact, just being inside made him seem out of
place.
He belonged to the rugged Wyoming land.
He reminded her of
the mountains in the distance, hard, demanding, tough and
enduring.

Enduring.
She studied him, noting the dark
hair that gleamed in the overhead light.
The teak skin, taut over
high cheekbones, bronzed by endless days in the sun.
She felt a
quickening deep within her as if her body called to his.
As if his
called to hers and she replied.
Mesmerized, she watched his hands
slice tomatoes, then dice the Cheddar cheese.
Those long, hard
fingers had stroked her so gently.
Had tended to her so tenderly.
What a dichotomy the man was.
Hard as granite, determined and
stubborn, yet gentle as a baby when the occasion demanded.

"Frustrated, eh?" he repeated, a slow smile
building.
"I can take care of that, sweetheart, after you eat."

"That's not what I mean and you know it.
You
never listen to me.
I keep telling you I'm here for good and you
act as if I'm on a visit and sooner or later will up and leave.
I
keep telling you this is my place, and I'll run it, and you ignore
me as if I was a pesky fly.
I'm tired of it.
I had enough bossing
around from my brothers.
I don’t need it from you!"

"What do you expect?" He put the knife down
and stared at her.
"You got this ranch in a fluke of chance, like
winning a high-stakes poker game.
You don't know anything about
ranching or cattle.
You don't even have a business background.
If
lack of knowledge isn't enough, you don't belong out here.
You're a
nurse.
From Boston.
You're a city girl.
The loneliness and solitude
of Wyoming will get to you before long.
You'd never last a winter
here, snowbound for weeks on end, no nearby neighbors, no parties,
stores, movies.
Some times no electricity.
Nothing but endless cold
and wind and snow.
And chores that have to get done no matter what.
Cattle that have to be watched, feed delivered, injuries taken care
of."

She banged her fist on the table.
"You don't
know anything about me.
I want to be here!
I will make a go of it.
I won't leave at the first sign of trouble.
If I did, I would have
been long gone by now, because trouble is all you've given me.
I'm
sorry you didn't get the ranch like you wanted.
I'm sorry to be in
your way, but Uncle Philip owned it all these years and you
survived.
You'll survive without the ranch now.
I'm here to stay,
so leave me alone!"

He straightened.
Slowly he nodded.
"Right.
That's what I should have done all along.
Leave you alone.
More
than anything, a woman can't stand to be left alone."

She boiled up at that.
"You think you're
irresistible, well, I can resist with the best of them."

"Like you did this morning?" be said
sardonically, his eyes black as ink, threatening her with their
harsh stare.

The fight went out of her instantly and her
face broke.
She blinked back tears at the insult, her gaze dropping
to the hands fisted in her lap.
"That was special," she said
softly, painfully.
The doubts rose again.
Had he only been trying
to seduce her because of the ranch?
Had it meant nothing to
him?

She spoke so softly he almost didn't hear
her.
But he did and felt as if she'd kicked him in the gut.
The
rage that warred in him at her attack vanished.
He wasn't really
angry with her, he was angry at fate.
She should never have
inherited this ranch.

If she hadn't, he would never have met her
and his life would have been infinitely easier.
He knew better than
to trust a woman.
To care for a woman.
Someone who would say one
thing and mean another.

But he was attracted to this petite
dark-haired woman like no other.
And he didn't like it.
He wanted
her gone.

Wanted the disruption to his life ended.
Wanted things back to normal.
Lonely and dull, maybe, but with his
heart and pride safe and intact.

"I'll stay away.
From now on, sweetheart,
you're on your own.
The offer will remain to buy the place.
When
you're tired of playing at ranching, let Richard know and we can
finalize the deal."

Trace walked by her, his boots loud in the
sudden silence.
He retrieved his hat and let himself out the back
door.
Kalli sat still, feeling her insides dissolve.
She wanted him
to stay.
Wanted him to finish the dinner he'd been fixing her.
Wanted his help.
Wanted his bossy orders.
Wanted more of his
kisses.

A shiver of fear touched her.
She had
overestimated her ability.
Uncle Philip had made it seem so easy,
but Trace was right she didn't have the faintest idea how to run a
ranch.
She didn't know how to manage cattle.
She didn’t even
understand the information she'd been putting into the computer.
How could she make sense of it?
She couldn't stay on a horse,
couldn't even saddle one without help.
How could she manage on her
own?

She needed Trace.

And he knew it.
Without his help, she would
probably wreck the ranch in record time.
Well, that would make it
all the easier for him to buy it.

She pushed herself up and hurried to the
door, hopping, unable to keep her injured foot from touching every
few steps.
Pain shot up her leg, but she ignored it.
Throwing open
the wooden door, she pushed through the screen door and out onto
the porch.

"Trace!"

He was already in his truck, the engine on.
For a long moment the air vibrated with the throaty growl of the
big pickup.
Then he shut it off and the silence was deafening.

Blood pounded through her, roaring in her
ears as she strained to see him in the darkness.
To her left the
soft glow of lights from the bunkhouse illuminated a portion of the
yard.
Behind her the light from the kitchen shone, but beyond that,
there was only darkness.
She tried to see him, but could only hear
the truck door open, slam shut.
Could only hear the crunch of
gravel beneath his boots as he walked closer.

"What?"

He came into the circle of light spilling
from the doorway and stood looking at her.
His hat rode low on his
forehead, his legs spread in an arrogant stance as he glared at
her.
She stood two steps higher, making her a shade taller than he
was.

Kalli licked her lips.
"I'm sorry.
Please,
I'm sorry.
Try to understand this from my point of view.
I've
wanted to live on the ranch since I was a child, since my first
visit.
All my life I've longed for this.
To be given this chance,
it's as if a dream came true.
Haven't you ever had a dream?
A
wonderful dream that is so special you can't believe it when it
comes true?"

He stared at her, his lips tight, his eyes
narrowed as he watched her try to explain to him.

"I know I don't know anything about
ranching, but I'm willing to learn.
You're not willing to give me
the chance, however.
Every time I do anything, I run into a solid
wall of your disapproval and dislike."

"I told you before, I don't dislike you," he
said, his voice hard, cold.

"Maybe physically.
But otherwise you don't
want me here.
You said so again just minutes ago.
But let me tell
you if I have to end up shooting my cattle one by one to eat to
live, I'm staying.
If I have to get a pony to ride because I can't
saddle a big horse, I'll do it.
If I have to invent my own system
of record keeping because I can't figure out that blasted computer,
I'll do it.
But I'm here for the long haul."

She took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on
his.

"I want you to help me.
Give me a chance.
A
real chance.
Please, Trace.
I know it is not to your best
advantage, but please give me this chance.
Teach me what I need to
know.
Let me have a fair shot at keeping the ranch and living my
dream.
Please."

"You can stay, you don't need me."

"I do, to make a go of it.
Please, Trace,
I'll give you anything you want, except the ranch.
Help me."

"And if the price is too high?" he said.

He was going to do it.
He was going to help
her!

"It won't be."

"What if I want you?"

She smiled, the warm glow of his words
caressing her.
Slowly she reached out her hand and trailed her
fingers down his cheek, feeling a muscle jump beneath her
touch.