Reckless Heart (18 page)

Josh walked in and sat down without saying a word. He began to eat.

Ignoring him was easy with the other men present and Molly began to relax. She joked with Billy and Jack, filled up their plates again and again and made sure everyone had enough to eat. She refused to sit but kept busy running back and forth so no one commented on the fact.

“Slow down, girl, you’re going to knock yourself out,” Lance drawled at one point, flicking his gaze back and forth between Molly and Josh.

“I’m fine. Just a bit behind.”

“Daydreaming again?” Josh asked in an obvious bad mood.

“Actually I got held up by a call from your sister. She said to tell you she and her husband are coming for a few days and you’re to be nice to Jake,” Molly replied primly, refilling Lance’s ice tea.

“You’ll like Brianna, she’s stayed here before and always pitches in,” Lance said with a smile.

“She sounded nice on the phone.”

Molly looked just to the left of Josh. “Which room should I prepare for them?”

“The one across from you. Brianna can help with the meals while she’s here.”

“I got the impression from her call that she and Jake are looking forward to riding a lot.”

“Can you manage two more for meals?”

She shrugged and opened another bag of chips and handed them to Pete. “I’m sure I can manage.” For as long as I stay, she wanted to add.

How she hoped Mrs. Montgomery found something for her before she found a replacement housekeeper.

She’d give anything to leave before Josh asked.

Lunch seemed to last forever. If she even glanced Josh’s way, she saw his gaze on her. She tried to listen to the banter between the cowboys, wistfully remembering a time when it had all been new and exciting.

Now she wanted to leave before she made a bigger fool of herself over the suspicious owner of the ranch. She wanted to turn her back on the Rafter C and any promise she'd once imagined and find another place where she would keep to herself, do her job and find relaxation in her writing. She should have learned from Marc. Josh had merely completed the lesson.

Love and marriage and happy-ever-after were only true in books. She’d not forget that in the future.

Molly saved another chapter when Josh walked into the office late that afternoon. She glanced up guiltily and checked the time. Good grief, she should have started dinner a half hour ago. Rising in panic, she shoved in her chair and turned to leave.

“Letter for you.” Josh moved behind his desk and sat down, tossing an envelope across the wide expanse.

Molly hesitated, puzzled.

“No one knows where I am,” she murmured, crossing to the desk. Her old address had been crossed out and Josh’s ranch address penciled in by the post office. Her heart sank, the letter was from her father.

“Thanks.”

She picked it up and slid it into her back pocket. She'd have to read it, but later, after dinner.

Turning, she hurried to the kitchen. She planned a meat loaf for dinner, but there wasn’t time, now, to prepare it. It would have to be hamburgers.

At least Josh wouldn’t suspect she’d forgotten about the meal. She'd have everything ready when the men came in.

Dinner proved to be strained. Molly did her best to appear carefree and unconcerned, but every instinct was trained on Josh. He ate, took no part in the general conversation, and his attitude caused puzzled glances from the men.

As soon as he finished eating, he left for the office.

One or two raised eyebrows were all that the cowboys allowed, but she knew everyone was curious about the reason for Josh’s attitude.

She washed the dishes. Then, instead of heading back to the office to work on her book, she went out front and walked slowly down the long driveway. The early evening air was still balmy and the breeze that blew from the west carried a hint of the coolness from the mountains. It was pleasant and she felt a certain peace seep through her.

Now was as good a time as any to read the letter from her father. She pulled it from her back pocket, feeling the tension rise just seeing his dark, bold handwriting. What was he going to try now? Why did he feel he had the right to run his own life and hers? She slid her finger beneath the envelope flap and withdrew two pages.

He demanded she return home, forget her foolishness and settle down. He wanted to know where she was, why the phone had been disconnected. He ended saying Marc had asked after her and if she were at all smart she’d snap up such a fine man.

Rereading the letter, Molly searched for any indication that her father wanted to know how she was, where she was. To see if he had any concern for her feelings in the matter, to find a trace of curiosity for her own desires and plans for the future. Nothing of the kind. It was a demand for return, clear and simple.

She sighed and tucked the letter back into the envelope and slid it back into her pocket. Nothing had changed. Not that she had expected it to, but she always hoped that just once her father would ask about her and then listen to what she had to say. Listen and respect her own views, her own feelings, her own dreams.

By the time Molly reached the main highway, it had grown dark. She recognized the main road with a start of surprise. She had been daydreaming, again, and hadn’t realized how far she’d walked. It was a mile back to the house. And it would be pitch dark before she covered half the distance. There were no streetlights, no traffic to provide some illumination. She'd be lucky to stay on the blacktop and not wander off into the barbed-wire fencing.

With a tsk of disgust, she turned and walked quickly back the way she’d come.

How could she have let herself get caught up in daydreams again? She really needed to get a better grasp of reality. Save her daydreaming for when she sat before the computer and composed her story.

In only seconds she saw headlights. Then the truck pulled up beside her and Josh’s looked out from the window.

“Get in, I’ll take you back.”

“No, thanks.” She could still see the road and if she walked in the center couldn’t she—

“Molly, get into the truck before I get out and put you in.” His tone brooked no refusal.

She hesitated a second, long enough to assuage her pride, then conceded. She didn’t want to walk all the way back in total darkness.

Once inside, Josh turned the truck around on the narrow road and roared toward the house.

“Bad news in your letter?” he asked.

Molly ignored his comment. She wanted to tell him it was none of his business. How would he feel if she parroted his words to him?

“Molly!”

“Not bad news. Just the usual stuff from my father. He wants to dictate and I refuse. I don’t know why he persists.” When would he get it through his head she was grown and on her own? And perfectly capable of running her own life.

Well, she qualified honestly, maybe not perfectly capable or she wouldn’t be in the fix she found herself now. But it was her life and her mistakes and she didn’t want anyone interfering.

“He doesn’t know where you are, does he? My address was forwarded from the post office.”

“I didn’t tell him where I was going. Not that it is any of your business, either,” she said tartly.

“Call him, Molly. Tell him you’re here and give him the address and phone number. Let him know you're safe. You owe him that much.”

“I don’t believe you have any more right to dictate my life than my father does. Less, actually. Butt out, Josh,” she said, turning in the dark cab and glaring at him. She wished he could see her.

“I’m not dictating anything. I’m only telling you to call the man, let him know you're safe.” It was a reasonable response. Why was she trying to make more of it than what it was? Was she looking for a fight? For a moment Josh was ready to offer her one.

“I’ll take it under consideration,” she said through gritted teeth. If that wasn’t an order, she didn’t know what was.

“Call him tonight.”

“I believe I know how to run my own life.”

“I don’t think you have a clue,” Josh snapped as he jerked the pickup to a stop and killed the engine.

“I certainly do. I’m managing just fine.”

“From where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like it.” He reached across the bench seat and latched his hands onto her upper arms, dragging her across until she practically sat in his lap. He lowered his face until he could see hers in the dim light spilling from the kitchen window.

“Molly, you can’t stay here. I’ve already called Mrs. Montgomery and asked for a new housekeeper.”

“I know. I called her myself to suggest it and she told me you’d beaten me to it. I’ll be going soon.”

“And just what are you going to do? You didn’t make it in the office job, nor the store, nor the fast food, nor here.”

Had Mrs. Montgomery shared all that with him? Wasn't there some kind of employment agency confidentiality?

“I’m doing better as a housekeeper. I’ll look for another position like this one. Don’t you worry about it. Maybe I didn’t suit you, but I’ll suit some other family, and still have time to write my book. If I can just get it published, I’ll have enough money to live on until I write a second. That’s what I really want to do.”

He remained silent for a long moment, surprised at the fear that churned up at her declaration she’d find another housekeeper job.

He didn’t want her cooking for some other man. He didn’t want some other rancher teaching her how to kiss and helping her do research for her blasted book.

Yet she couldn’t stay. She imagined herself in love with him. There was nothing he could do but send her away before she became a nuisance.

When he fell in love, he wanted a woman like his mother. Someone who kept the house immaculate, cooked delicious, bountiful meals, and had time to take care of any children they might have.

He didn’t want some flighty, scatterbrained woman who daydreamed most of the day away, who couldn’t cook beyond basics and who thought nothing of flirting with the cowhands.

Yet as she stared at him so defiantly in the faint light, his heart turned over.

She was so pretty, her eyes wide and luminous, her hair softly swirling around her shoulders, her lips tempting. He drew in a deep breath and took in her own special scent—roses.

He wanted to push her away and order her to call her father. Maybe the man could get her to go home and take care of her.

But his arms didn’t work that way, they were drawing her closer. His mouth didn’t voice the thoughts that he knew he should say, instead it covered hers and kissed her long and deep.

When her hands clenched against his shirt, bunching it beneath her fingers, and pulled him closer, something inside relaxed and he drew her fully into his arms. She represented sweetness and innocence, allure and desire all wrapped up into one enticing little package. And for the moment, that was all he wanted.

“Go home, Molly,” he said softly, breaking off the kiss.

Her hands pushed to be released and she slid across the seat to the passenger door. Opening, she blinked in the light from the overhead bulb.

“When you have a replacement or I find another job. Until then, I work here!”

She stepped out, slammed the door and stalked to the house, the blood racing through her veins. Torn between anger and desire, she stomped up the three wooden steps and marched through the kitchen, intent on resuming her writing.

She hated Josh telling her what to do. And she didn’t admire his methods one bit. Did he think he could kiss her into submission, bend her to his will through his lips? She was made of sterner stuff than that.

The emotions churning around inside right now didn’t resemble love at all. She was mad enough to spit nails! How dare he think he could seduce her. She’d show him. She wasn't calling her father. And she wouldn't leave until she was good and ready.

Tomorrow, she'd send what she already had to a publisher. There was enough now for a publisher to get a good idea of what she’d done so far and where she was heading.

She closed the office door behind her hoping it would clearly indicate to Josh that she wanted to be alone.

It didn’t work. By the time she had found her place on the most recent chapter, he opened the door and strode to his desk.

She heard the creak of his chair, but kept her eyes resolutely on the monitor. She wouldn't be swayed by his presence. He’d made his feelings abundantly clear. He wanted her gone. He had no use for any love from her or anyone else, as far as she could tell.

Trying to concentrate on the storyline was impossible. Excruciatingly aware of Josh, she heard the scratch of the pen across paper, the rustle as he turned pages, the squeak in his chair as he shifted position.

She knew he frowned as he read some of the reports, she'd seen him do it often enough. His soft breathing resonated in the quiet room. Longing to look at him, just once, she denied herself that pleasure. She was here to write and that she would do if it killed her!

Slowly she typed in a few words. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing, but she wouldn't let him know that. She typed in more.