Once Upon a Cowboy (7 page)

Gabby held up his hands. "Take it easy. I didn't get far with 'em. Only up to fourteen. Why don't I go fix you a nice hot thermos of coffee?"

"Fine." Holt snagged his hat off the bedpost.

Gabby made his way over to the door and cleared his throat. "Feed some to Tex, okay?" he said, before beating a hasty retreat.

Smothering a curse, Holt crushed his hat down on his head and stomped from the room. Somebody would pay for his irritation. And he had a good idea who.

* * *

Cami shifted closer to Petunia, trying to absorb some of the horse's warmth. Lordy, it was cold. And dark. And lonely. She thought longingly of her bed. Another hour's sleep wouldn't go amiss, either.

Aw, quit your bellyachin'!
This is what she'd waited for, the dream of a lifetime. A bit of cold weather wasn't going to keep her from being a cowboy. It might freeze her stiffer than a June bug in the Arctic, but it wouldn't stop her.

After a moment's hesitation, she unsnapped the rope from her saddle. A little practice while she waited wouldn't hurt anything. And it might warm her up. Now if she could only see what she aimed the rope at. She peered through the moonlit darkness.

"Wait here," she ordered Petunia, and moved off a few paces. No sense in roping her horse. Besides, she doubted this particular one would stand for it.

With a quick toss, she spun the rope over her head. That part, she had down pat. Now if she could get the throwing part figured out, she'd have it made. She gave the rope a few more practice twirls. Satisfied, she snapped her wrist back. Once again the rope sailed off behind her. Once again it snagged on something, refusing to reappear. And once again, Holt's sheepdog howled in anguish.

She turned and winced. "Tell me I didn't do that," she groaned, running to the animal's aid.

She dropped to her knees and gently loosened the rope. The sheepdog whimpered, shoving his cold, wet nose into her hand. "I'm real sorry, Git," she murmured, stroking his thick coat. "I hope you realize I didn't do it on purpose. I just can't get the hang of this roping business."

The dog gave her hand an encouraging lick, and with a quick apology for the delay she eased the rope off him. "Tell you what. Why don't you go stand over there by Petunia, and I'll try and rope something else."

The dog skulked toward the safety of the barn and Cami sighed. She couldn't keep roping that poor dog. She had to get this cowboying stuff right sometime soon, or she wouldn't meet Holt's criteria. And she had to succeed. She
had
to.

With renewed determination, she stood and walked to the middle of the yard. She tossed the rope into the air, spinning it in a smooth circle above her head. So far, so good. Now, a quick jerk of the wrist, and... To her exasperation, the rope flew off behind her and went taut. Something thudded to the ground and she heard the tinkling of shattered glass.

"You crazy female! What the
hell
do you think you're doing!"

Cami swiveled in her tracks. Lordy, lordy, lordy. She'd done it this time. She'd gone and lassoed her boss. And he seemed upset. Mighty upset. In fact, he appeared hotter than kerosene put to a match. Her gaze moved to the thermos rolling at his feet. Another casualty, if she didn't miss her guess.

"The thermos?" she asked. "It's broken?"

"Bingo, Tex," he practically snarled.

The porch light snapped on and Gabby stuck his nose out of the door. He took one look at the damage, yelped, "Head for the hills, girl!" and darted inside.

With a smothered exclamation, Holt grabbed a piece of the rope wrapped around him and gathered up the excess, reeling her in. He stopped once they stood toe-to-toe and brim-to-brim. "You broke my coffee!" His breath smoked the air between them.

"I didn't mean to. Honest." She swallowed. Who'd have thought his black eyes could get any blacker? Not her. "Holt. Mr. Winston. Sir."

"I don't take kindly to people who break my coffee. I need that coffee. That coffee's the only thing that keeps me civil at four-thirty in the morning. Fact is, it's the only thing that's going to keep me from strangling you. And. You.
Broke it!
"

Her head bobbed up and down. "Yessir, I did. I don't deny it for a minute." She stared at him earnestly. "Holt?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry," she said with heartfelt sincerity. "Real sorry."

"You... I..." He gritted his teeth and she watched, fascinated by the play of muscles across his jaw. "Apology... accepted," he finally bit out.

Heavens, he was a fine-looking man. Even angry, some undeniable essence drew her, spoke to her on a subconscious level. Did he feel it? Did he sense anything at all? She stared, captivated by the jet black eyes and the lock of gilded brown hair tumbling across his forehead. Every line of his face revealed the strength and determination and drive that personified the man.

No wonder her Momma had fallen in love with a cowboy. How could you not? Everything about this type of man appealed. Granted, the fact she couldn't turn around without seriously ticking him off might be an issue. But that would change over the next two weeks. It might also cause a tiny problem. If she found him impossible to resist now with smoke curling from his ears, what would happen if he dared look at her with a different attitude? If he looked at her with longing? With hunger? With the sort of warmth and heat she saw slipping into his gaze?

"What's this?" His eyes narrowed and he cupped her chin, tilting her face upward. His brows drew together. "You're bruised." His thumb caressed her cheekbone.

Was that concern in his voice? "It's nothing." She shrugged off the injury, unable to shrug off her reaction to his touch as easily. It sparked a forbidden desire deep in her belly. A desire she had no business feeling toward her employer. "If it makes you feel any better, I've learned it's best not to land face first when you come off a horse." She gave him a tentative smile, relieved to see a glimmer of humor appear in the sooty depths of his eyes.

His head dipped lower, and he turned her face to better examine her cheek. His touch remained gentle, at odds with the hardness of the man. She fought to hide her reaction, struggling to identify it. Lust, she realized in astonishment. Even though she'd never experienced the emotion before, she had a strong suspicion that the urge to rip a man's clothes off and have her wicked way with him could probably be attributed to good, old-fashioned lust.

"You have bruises in less visible places?" he asked.

Her smile widened. Who knew one of the seven deadly sins could feel so utterly fantastic? "I might have a bruise or two in less visible places," she conceded, striving to conceal her lusty thoughts.

"Fair warning, you'll have even more before the week's over." His hand slid slowly from her face, leaving behind a trail of liquid fire. "I've got cream that'll help. Be sure you rub it in well."

"Thanks. I—"

The door banged open and instantly Holt stepped away from her. Gabby scampered down the porch steps. "I got you more coffee," he said, holding aloft a new thermos. "No real damage done." He helped untangle Holt from the rope and shoved it into Cami's hands. "Best get this put away," he muttered in her ear.

"Thanks, Gabby," she said. "You're a sweetheart."

He reared back, glaring from beneath thick white brows. "Don't go gettin' mushy on me. If there's one thing I hate, it's mush."

Holt glanced from one to the other. "You two through sweet talkin' each other? We've work to do."

With a noisy "Humph," Gabby shoved the new thermos at her, picked up the broken one and stomped into the house. Cami bit down on her lip to keep from laughing.

Holt nodded toward the coffee. "Drink some of that while I get Loco saddled. It'll take the edge off the cold."

She hesitated, reluctant to create further contention between them. "I'd be happy to, if it were tea." She wrinkled her nose. "But I'm not overly fond of coffee."

He lifted an eyebrow. "You best get this straight right off. Real cowboys have two and only two beverages they drink. Coffee and whiskey. And every once in a while, when they're pushed, they'll take a gulp of water to ease a dusty throat. But they never,
ever
drink tea."

"Got it. Coffee and whiskey. Ace out the tea." She peeked up at him, a teasing grin playing across her mouth. "Got any whiskey?"

"It's in with the coffee," he drawled, and started for the barn.

Cami eyed his retreating back. Furtively, she turned around and uncapped the thermos. In with the coffee? Seriously? She took a cautious sniff. All she could smell was coffee. Pouring a bit into the top, she took a quick sip and choked. Dear heaven! This had to be the strongest stuff she'd ever tasted, not to mention the worst. If it wasn't laced with whiskey, it ought to be, if only to dilute the coffee.

"Don't let it go to your head," Holt murmured from right behind her.

With a cry of alarm she whirled around, coffee flying in all directions. Petunia, in particular, took exception to the bath and clipped Cami on the shoulder. The thermos tumbled to the ground, a quart of spilled coffee rapidly turning the dirt to mud. At least this time the coffee didn't break.

Before she had a chance to move, let alone speak, the ranch house door slammed open and Gabby tumbled down the steps. "Couldn't help but notice what happened. And it's the strangest thing," he called as he trotted across the yard. "Just happened to have this extra thermos all ready to go."

Cami gave a relieved sigh. "Thanks."

"Quite a coincidence," Holt stated grimly.

"Yeah, well." Gabby scowled at Cami. "I have a feeling we're in for a lot more such coincidences."

He deposited the thermos in Holt's hands, snatched up the one lying on the ground and retreated toward the house. "Thought I'd fill in for Agnes 'til she returns. I'll make us a stack of my buckwheat flapjacks. You get along with the chores and I'll have the griddle sizzlin' hot when you're ready to eat."

The door banged shut behind the foreman and Cami glanced at Holt. "Sorry about that," she murmured. "I guess you surprised me."

"Likewise." A hint of irony crept into his voice. "It might be smart if you and I kept our distance."

Cami eyed Holt speculatively. Maybe her reaction to her new boss—not to mention, his to her—hadn't been her imagination, after all. Maybe he had felt something when they'd touched. If it came close to what she'd felt, they'd both wandered into "deadly sin" territory. The question was... What did they plan to do about it?

Granted, they could ignore it. But considering they'd be working side-by-side all summer might make that difficult. Even so, she didn't want to risk her job. Cowboying meant everything to her, even more than a certain irresistible ranch owner. And if steering clear of him meant fulfilling her dream, then that's just what she'd do. Maybe. If she could stop picturing him naked. The image of a devil and angel popped into her head. The angel attempted to push a naked Holt out of her right ear. The devil simply tried to climb aboard the man and take him for a test ride.

Cami sighed. "Keeping our distance would be safer, that's for sure," she muttered.

Amusement gleamed in his eyes. "Agreed." Turning away, he crossed to Petunia and checked her cinches. With a satisfied nod, he said, "Okay. Mount up. We'll go get the
redondo."
At her confused look, he explained, "The workhorses. We bring them in from the pasture and take a curry comb to them. Once that's done, we'll try Gabby's cooking."

"And then?"

His smile made her nervous. "And then we start work."

* * *

"Today, I'm going to take it easy on you," Holt announced.

"That's what you said yesterday," Cami griped good-naturedly. "And now that I think about it, that's what you said the day before, too. Your taking it easy is liable to kill me deader than a cockroach beneath a flyswatter."

"Ready to give up and go home?"

"No way." She shifted in the saddle. "I gotta admit though, I have blisters in spots I didn't know I had skin
to
blister."

He shot her a quelling look. "Real cowboys don't blister."

"Maybe you should explain that minor detail to my tailbone." She grimaced. "Not that I'm complaining. If cowboys don't blister, I'll stop blistering. Any minute now." She peeked over her shoulder at the part of her planted in the saddle. "I hope."

Holt cleared his throat. "About today's work."

"Don't keep me in suspense. How are you taking it easy on me today?"

"By riding fence."

"Great." She glanced at him from beneath her hat brim. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Only when you sit down."

A grin creased his lean face, causing her heart to stutter. That grin gutted her every single time. The devil and angel in her head commenced wrestling. She cheered on the angel, though perhaps not as enthusiastically as she should. But given the nature of that grin, who could blame her?

"Come on. We've fence lines to check." He nudged Loco into a trot.

The sun broke above the mountains before her, tinting the snow-topped peaks with varying shades of pink and purple. She caught up with him before he cleared the next rise. "I never noticed before, but the mountains have faces." She pointed to a huge craggy one off in the distance. "See that pointy one?"