The Manning Sisters (11 page)

Taylor firmly shook her head. “I'm just not interested, thanks.”

“How about this? If you get the calf out, I'll come willingly to your bed. If you don't, then you'll come willingly to mine.”

“Does everything boil down to
that
with you?”

“
That,
my sweet lady, is exactly what we both want.”

“You're impossible.”

“If you were honest with yourself, you'd admit I'm right.”

Her mouth was pinched so tightly that her lips were pale. “You're disgusting.”

“That isn't what you said the other night,” Russ murmured.

“If you don't mind, I'd prefer it if we didn't talk about Friday night.”

“As you wish,” he said with a grin.

Taylor frowned, studying the calf. “Couldn't we prod him out?”

“
We?
It was my understanding that you could do this all on your own.”

“All right,” she flared, “if you won't help me, then I'll do it myself.” She took two tentative steps into the thick, sticky mud and wrinkled her nose as she moved warily toward the distressed calf. “For being such a great rancher, you certainly seem to be taking this rather casually,” she accused him, glancing over her shoulder. Her arms were stretched out at her sides as though she was balancing on a tightrope.

Russ shrugged. “Why should I be concerned when you're doing such a bang-up job?”

Taylor took two more small steps, her face wrinkled with displeasure.

“You're doing just great,” Russ called out to her. “In another week or so you'll have reached the calf.”

“I never realized how sarcastic you were before now,” she muttered.

“Just trying to be of service. Are you sure you're not willing to stake something on the outcome of this?”

“I'm more than sure,” she said. “I'm absolutely, totally positive.”

“That's a shame.”

She glared at him. “It seems you've forgotten that this calf belongs to you. The only reason I'm doing anything is because I find your attitude extremely callous.”

“Extremely,” Russ echoed, and laughed outright. He tried to disguise it behind a cough, but the irate look she shot him told him he hadn't succeeded.

The sound of pounding hooves caught his attention, and Russ turned to see two of his men galloping toward him.

“Who's coming?” Taylor demanded. She twisted around to glance over her shoulder and somehow lost her balance. Her arms flailed as a look of terror came over her. “Russ…”

Russ leaped forward, but it was too late. He heard her shriek just as she tumbled, hands first into the thick slime. For a shocked second he did nothing. Then, God forgive him, he couldn't help it, he started laughing. He laughed so hard, his stomach hurt and he clutched it with both arms.

A long string of unladylike words blistered the afternoon air when he waded into the mud. Taylor was sitting upright, her knees raised, holding out her hands while the gunk oozed slowly between her fingers. At least the upper portion of her body had been spared.

“Get away from me you…you—” She apparently couldn't think of anything nasty enough to call him. “This is all your fault.” Taking a fistful of black mud, she hurled it at him with all her strength, using such force that she nearly toppled backward with the effort.

The mud flew past Russ, missing him by several feet. “Here, let me help you,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes.

“Stop laughing,” she shouted. “Stop right this second! Do you understand me?”

Russ couldn't do it. He'd never seen anything funnier in his life. He honestly tried to stop, but he simply couldn't.

Taylor was so furious that despite several attempts she couldn't pull herself upright. Finally, Russ moved behind her and, gripping her under the arms, heaved her upward.

The second they were out of the mud, Taylor whirled around, talking so fast and so furiously that he couldn't make out more than a few words. From those he recognized, he figured he was better off not knowing what she had to say.

Russ's two hands, Slim and Roy, stood by, and when Russ met their eyes, he saw that they were doing an admirable job of containing their own amusement. Unfortunately Russ wasn't nearly as diplomatic.

“You two can handle this?” he said, nodding toward the calf.

“No problem,” Slim said.

“Taylor didn't think she'd have a problem, either,” Russ said, and started laughing all over again.

Both Slim and Roy were chuckling despite their best efforts not to. They climbed down from their horses and leaned against the side of the truck, turning away so Taylor couldn't see them. It wasn't until then that Russ noticed she was missing. He discovered her walking in the direction of the house, which by his best estimate was a good three miles north. Her backside was caked with mud, and her arms were swinging at her sides.

“Looks like you got woman problems,” Roy said, glancing at Taylor.

“Looks that way to me, too,” Slim said, reaching for his kerchief and wiping his eyes. “I'd be thinking about what Abe Lincoln said if I were you.”

“And what's that?” Russ wanted to know.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“That wasn't Abe Lincoln,” Roy muttered. “That was Johnny Carson.”

Whoever said it obviously knew women a whole lot better than Russ did. The way he figured it, if he ever wanted Taylor to ever speak to him again, he was going to have to do some fast talking of his own.

 

Taylor had never been angrier in her life. That mud was the most disgusting thing she'd ever seen, and having it on her clothes and skin was more horrible than she even wanted to contemplate. She was cold and wet, and all Russ had done was laugh.

He'd laughed as if she was some slapstick comedian sent to amuse him with her antics. To add to her humiliation she couldn't find the key to the stupid truck. She'd thought she'd left it in the ignition. One thing she did know: she wasn't going to stand around and listen to those men make fun of her.

The least Russ could've done was tell her he was sorry! But he hadn't. Oh, no! He'd roared so loud she swore she'd hear the echo for all eternity.

The sound of the pickup coming toward her did nothing to quell her fury. She didn't so much as turn and look at him when Russ slowed the truck to a crawl beside her.

“Want a ride?”

“No.” She continued, increasing her pace. She was already winded, but she'd keel over and die before she'd let Russ know that.

“In case you're wondering, we're about three miles from the ranch house.”

She whirled around. “What makes you think I'm going there?”

He shrugged. “Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“No.” Her voice cracked, and her shoulders started to shake while she tried to suppress the tears. Her effort was for naught, and they ran down her face, hot against her skin. Forgetting about the thick mud caked on her hands, she tried to wipe off the tears and in the process nearly blinded herself. The sobs came in earnest then, and her whole body shook with them.

She heard Russ leap out of the pickup, and before she could protest, he was wiping the mud from her face, using a handkerchief. She only hoped it was clean, and once she realized how preposterous that was, she cried harder.

“I hate you,” she sobbed, and her shoulders heaved with her vehemence. “I hate Montana. I hate everything about this horrible place. I want to go home.”

Russ's arms came around her, but before she could push him away, he'd picked her up and carried her to the truck.

“I…can't sit in there,” she wailed. “I'll ruin the upholstery.”

Russ proceeded to inform her how little he cared about the interior of his truck. He set her inside the cab, with her feet hanging out the door, then reached into the back and grabbed a blanket and placed that around her shoulders.

“You're cold,” was all he said.

“I'm not cold. I'm perfectly—” She would've finished what she was going to say, but her teeth had started to chatter.

Russ brushed the hair from her face, his fingers lingering at her temple. “I am sorry.”

“Just be quiet. I'm in no mood for an apology.”

Russ moved her legs inside, then closed the door. The blast of heat coming from the heater felt like a warm breeze straight from paradise, and tucking the blanket more securely around her, Taylor hunched forward. She didn't want to know where this tattered old blanket had been.

Russ hurried around the front of the truck and climbed in beside her. “Hold on,” he said. “I'll have you at the house in two minutes flat.”

“Where did you find the truck key?” she asked grudgingly.

“I always carry one on my key chain.”

“What about the poor little calf?”

“Don't worry. The guys'll get him out. And they'll bring Magic back for me.”

If Taylor had thought the ride from town the day they'd met had been rough, it was a Sunday School picnic compared to the crazy way Russ drove across the pasture.

Mandy must have heard them coming, because she was standing on the back porch steps when Russ pulled in to the yard and screeched to a halt. He turned off the engine and vaulted out of the cab.

Taylor couldn't seem to get her body to move. Russ opened the door and effortlessly lifted her into his arms.

“What happened?” Mandy cried, racing toward them.

“Taylor fell in the mud. She's about to freeze to death.”

“I…I most certainly am not going to freeze,” she countered. “All I need is a warm bath and my own clothes.”

“Right on both counts,” Russ said, bounding up the back steps with her in his arms. He paused at the top and drew in a deep breath. “How much do you weigh, anyhow?”

“Oh,” Taylor cried, squirming in his arms, struggling to make him release her.

Her efforts were in vain as Mandy held open the door and Russ carried her through the kitchen and down a narrow hallway to the bathroom.

“How'd it happen?” Mandy asked, running after them.

Russ's eyes met Taylor's. “You don't want to know the answer to that,” Taylor informed the teenager.

“I'll tell you later,” Russ mouthed. When they reached the bathroom, Mandy opened the door wider so Russ could haul Taylor inside.

“Boil some water and get the whiskey bottle from the top cupboard,” he instructed.

Mandy nodded and dashed back to the kitchen.

“Put me down,” Taylor insisted. If it wasn't for this egotistical, stubborn,
perverse
man, she wouldn't be in this humiliating position in the first place.

 

Russ surprised her by doing as she asked. Gently he set her feet on the tile floor, then leaned over the tub to adjust the knobs, starting the flow of warm water.

For the first time Taylor had an opportunity to survey the damage. She looked down at her legs and gasped at the thick, black coating. A glance in the mirror was her second mistake.

Her lower lip trembled and she sniffled, attempting to hold back the tears.

“You're going to be just fine in a few minutes,” Russ said in an apparent effort to comfort her.

“I'm not fine,” Taylor moaned, catching her reflection in the mirror again. “I look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon!”

“T
aylor!” Russ shouted from the other side of the bathroom door, “close the shower curtain. I'm coming in.”

Resting her head against the back of the tub until the warm soothing water covered her shoulders, Taylor turned a disinterested glance toward the door. She felt sleepy and lethargic. “Go away,” she called lazily, then proceeded to yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

“If you don't want to close the curtain, it's fine with me. Actually, I'd be grateful if you didn't.”

The doorknob started to turn and, muttering at the intrusion, Taylor reached for the plastic curtain and jerked it closed.

“Damn,” Russ said from the other side, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I was hoping you'd be more stubborn than this.”

“Why are you here?” she demanded.

“I live here, remember?”

“I mean in the bathroom! You have no business walking in on me like this.” Actually Taylor should have been out of the bathtub long ago, but the water was so warm and relaxing, and it felt good just to sit there and and soak.

“I'm taking these clothes out so Mandy can put them in the washing machine,” he said, and his voice faded as he went down the hall.

All too soon he was back. “Stick out your arm.”

“Why?”

“You'll find out.”

Taylor exhaled sharply, her hold on her temper precarious. “May I remind you that I'm stark naked behind this curtain.”

“Trust me, lady, I know that. It's playing hell with my imagination. Now stick out your arm before I'm forced to pull back this shower curtain.”

Grinding her teeth, Taylor did as he asked, knowing full well he'd follow through with his threat given the least provocation. Almost immediately a hot mug was pressed into her palm. She brought it behind the curtain and was immediately struck by the scent of whiskey and honey mixed with hot water. “What's this for?”

“It'll help warm you.”

“I wasn't really that chilled.” Actually she'd been far too angry to experience anything more than minimal discomfort.

“If you want the truth,” Russ said in low, seductive tones, “I was hoping the drink would help take the edge off your anger.”

“It's going to take a whole lot more than a hot toddy to do that.”

“That's what I thought,” he muttered. “I've left a couple of Mandy's things here for you to change into when you've finished. There's no hurry, so take all the time you want.”

“Are you leaving now?” she asked impatiently.

“Yes, but I'll be waiting for you.”

“I figured you would be,” she grumbled.

Taylor soaked another ten minutes until the water started to turn cool, then she reluctantly pulled the plug and climbed out of the tub.

A thick pale-blue flannel robe that zipped up the front was draped over the edge of the sink, along with a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. After Taylor had finished drying, she slipped into those, conscious that she wore nothing underneath.

Russ was sitting at the kitchen table. “Where's Mandy?” she asked, doing her best to sound casual and composed, as if she often walked around a man's home in nothing more than a borrowed robe.

“She's on the phone, talking to Travis Wells's boy.”

This must be the famous Eddie who'd caused Taylor so much grief. Not knowing what she should say or do, she walked over to the counter and filled her empty mug with coffee. She'd just replaced the pot when Russ's hands settled on her shoulders. He turned her around and gazed into her eyes.

“I shouldn't have laughed.” His voice was husky, his expression regretful.

She lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “I don't think you could've helped it—laughing was a natural reaction. I must have looked ridiculous.”

“Do you forgive me?”

She nodded. Her sojourn in the bath had washed away more than the mud; it had obliterated her anger. She acknowledged that she hadn't been completely guiltless in this fiasco, either. “You weren't really to blame. I did it to myself with my stubborn pride. You're the rancher here, not me. I was a fool to think I could free that poor calf when you couldn't. I brought the whole thing on myself, but you were handy and I lashed out at you.”

Russ lifted her chin with his index finger. “Did you mean what you said about hating Montana?”

Taylor didn't remember saying that, although she'd muttered plenty about Russ and his stupid cows and everything else she could think of.

“Not any more than I meant what I said about everything else.”

“Good.” Russ obviously took that as a positive answer. He raised his finger and traced it slowly over her cheek to her lips. His touch was unhurried and tender as if he longed to ease every moment of distress he'd caused her, intentionally or otherwise. His eyes didn't waver from hers, and when he leaned forward to kiss her, there wasn't a single doubt in Taylor's mind that this was exactly what she wanted.

His mouth settled over hers, and she sighed softly in hopeless welcome. His kisses, as always, were devastatingly sensual. Taylor felt so mellow, so warm.

“I could get drunk on you,” Russ murmured in awe.

“It must be the whiskey,” she whispered back.

He shook his head. “I didn't have any.” His hands were in her hair, his lips at her throat, and the delicious, delirious feelings flooded her.

Sliding her hands over the open V of his shirt, she wound her arms around his strong neck. He leaned her against the counter and pressed himself against her, creating a whole new kaleidoscope of delectable sensations. Taylor let her head fall back as he continued to kiss her. He was so close she could feel the snap of his jeans. He was power. Masculine strength. Heat. She sensed in him a hunger she'd never known in any man. A hunger and need. One only she could fill.

Then, when she least expected it, Russ stilled his body and his hands and roughly dragged his mouth from hers. Not more than a second had passed when…

“Oops…oh, sorry,” Mandy said as she walked into the kitchen. “I bet you guys want me to come back later. Right? Hey, no problem.” She backed out of the kitchen, hands raised.

Russ's arms closed protectively around Taylor, but she broke free and managed a smile, then deftly turned toward the teenager. “There's no reason for you to leave.”

“Yes, there is,” Russ said. “Taylor and I have to talk.”

“No, we don't,” she countered sharply. “We've finished…talking.”

Russ threw her a challenging glance that suggested otherwise, and Taylor, who rarely blushed, did so profusely.

“We haven't even started
talking
,” Russ whispered for her ears alone. Taylor wasn't going to argue with him, at least not in front of his sister.

Mandy stared down at the linoleum floor and traced the octagonal pattern with the toe of her tennis shoe. “You've already talked to Russ?” she asked, darting a quick glance at Taylor. Her soft green eyes were imploring.

“Not yet,” Taylor said pointedly.

“Disappear for a while, Mandy,” Russ urged, turning back to Taylor.

“No,” Taylor said forcefully. The minute the girl was out of the room, the same thing would happen that always did whenever they were alone together. One kiss and they'd burst spontaneously into a passion hot enough to sear Taylor's senses for days afterward.

“No?” Mandy echoed, clearly confused.

“I haven't talked to Russ yet, but I will now.”

The fourteen-year-old brightened and nodded eagerly. She pointed toward the living room. “I'll just wait in there.”

“What's going on here?” Russ demanded once Mandy was out of the room.

“Nothing.”

“And pigs fly.”

“Sit down,” she coaxed, offering him a shy smile. She got a second mug and filled it with coffee, then carried it to the round oak table where Russ was waiting for her. His arm slipped around her waist, and she braced her hands against his shoulders.

“You're supposed to talk to me?” he asked.

She nodded.

“This has to do with Mandy?”

Once more Taylor nodded.

Russ frowned. “That was why you drove out to see me earlier, wasn't it?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly. He kept his arms securely around her waist, but he didn't look pleased. Taylor felt the least she could do was explain. “Mandy came to talk to me after school, and she asked me to approach you about…something.”

“She isn't comfortable coming to me herself?” Russ muttered, looking offended. “I've been trying as hard as I can to listen to her. I can't be any fairer than I've already been. What does she want now? To get an apartment in town on her own?”

“Don't be silly,” Taylor answered, riffling his hair, seeking some way to reassure him. “Mandy knows you're trying to be patient with her, and she's trying, too. Only this was something special, something she felt awkward talking to you about, so she came to me. Don't be offended, Russ. That wasn't her intention and it isn't mine.”

He nodded, but his frown remained. From the first, Taylor hadn't been sure she was doing the right thing by approaching Russ on Mandy's behalf. She'd only wanted to help, but regretted her part in this now. Look where it had led her! Two feet deep in mud.

Positioning herself on his lap, she rested her arms over his shoulders, her wrists dangling. “You're right,” she said, and kissed him long and leisurely by way of apology.

His eyes were still closed when she'd finished, his breathing labored.

“Mandy,” Taylor called, embarrassed by how noticeably her voice trembled.

The teenager raced into the kitchen so fast she nearly skidded across the polished floor. “Well?” she asked expectantly. “What did he say?” She seemed a little startled to see Taylor sitting on her brother's lap, but didn't mention it at all.

“I haven't said anything yet,” Russ growled. “I want to know what's going on here. First of all, Taylor drives out to talk to me, and from what I can tell she's wearing your clothes.”

“I couldn't very well send her out there in the dress she was wearing at school. I'm certainly glad I insisted she put on something of mine, otherwise look what would've happened!” Mandy declared.

“What's that got to do with this?”

“You were supposed to be back early today, remember?” Mandy reminded him pointedly. “You said something about driving over to Bill Shepherd's this afternoon—”

“Oh, damn,” Russ muttered, “I forgot.”

“Don't worry. He phoned while you were out with Taylor, and I said you'd probably run into some trouble. He's going to call you back tonight.”

Russ nodded. “Go on.”

“Well, anyway, I thought it might even be better if Taylor talked to you when I wasn't around, so I suggested she take the truck and—”

“How'd you know where I was?” Russ asked his sister, clearly confused.

“I heard you speaking to Slim this morning about checking the south fence lines. I just headed Taylor in that direction. I knew she'd find you sooner or later.”

Russ's gaze shot to Taylor. “She found me all right. Now tell me what you were going to talk to me about.” The tone of Russ's voice suggested he was fast losing patience.

“Mandy, I'm holding him down, so you do the talking,” Taylor said, smiling at Russ.

“You ask him, Taylor. Oh, please…” the girl begged.

“Nope, you're on your own, kiddo.”

“Will the two of you stop playing games and tell me what's going on here?”

“Okay,” Mandy said, elevating her shoulders as she released a deep breath. She pushed up the sleeves of her sweater, not looking at her brother, and launched into her request. “You know Travis Wells, don't you?” She didn't give Russ time to respond. “His son Eddie goes to school with me.”

“Eddie's older than you.”

“He's sixteen,” Mandy returned quickly. “Actually he's only twenty-two months and five days older than I am. If he'd been born in October and I'd been born in August we might even have been in the same class together, so there's really not that big a difference in our ages.” She paused as though waiting for Russ to comment or agree.

“All right,” he said after an uncomfortable moment.

Mandy looked at Taylor pleadingly, silently asking her to explain the rest. Taylor shook her head.

“Eddie's been talking to me lately…in the halls and sometimes at lunch. Yesterday he sat with me on the bus.” This was clearly of monumental significance. “Eddie was the one who encouraged me to try out for the drill team, and when I made it, he said he knew I would.”