Jerk. Did he think she was so delicate she couldn't pump a tankful of gas? She watched him amble—the only word for it—over to a big four-door pickup with a yellow rose on one of the doors. Underneath it was the legend The Yellow Rose Ranch.
She'd have to ask Paige about him.
I'm sure batting a thousand with the male population of White Tail. What is it about them that makes me act like a witch?
Sighing, she replaced the hose at the side of the pump, pulled her receipt from the slot and climbed back into her car. What was the matter with her? Under normal circumstances she would have strung out her conversation with the cute hand from The Yellow Rose, flirted a little. But her flirting hadn't worked with Morgan Cutter. All she'd done was embarrass herself and that still stung.
Paige's directions were very clear and before long she turned into the Circle C's long caliche driveway. She didn't see Morgan's Expedition parked in the turnaround. Maybe he had decided not to attend the command performance after all.
This was her first view of the ranch and it took her breath away. Land stretched as far as she could see, and in a nearby pasture cattle munched peacefully on vegetation. A white fence circled a corral behind the limestone and adobe ranch house, and off to the left stretched a line of buildings Allison knew from Paige's description were the barns, the breeding facility, the bunkhouse, and at the very end, the small house where the foreman, John Howell, lived with his wife, Myra.
Sycamore and oak trees rose up like graceful dancers, breaking the flatness of the landscape, and around the house itself Texas sage and crepe myrtle trees bloomed in colorful profusion. The pleasant scent of hay and new-mown grass drifted across her nostrils. The whinnying of horses from the barns was punctuated by the contented lowing of the cattle.
As she parked her car Paige came running from the house to greet her.
"Oh, Allie, I'm so glad you're here.” She hugged her friend. “This will be so much fun."
"If you say so.” Allison pulled her overnight bag from the back seat and looked around.
"He'll be here shortly,” Paige said as if reading her mind.
"He?” Allison made her face a blank. “I have no idea who you're talking about."
"Oh, come on, Allie. This is me. I can read you like a book.” Paige took the overnight bag. “Morgan will be here shortly. And just in case you're wondering, he wasn't any happier about this than you are."
"Oh, great.” Allison followed Paige up onto the wide porch and into the cool interior of the ranch house. “This should make for a festive dinner. Are we drawing six guns at twenty paces?"
Paige led the way into a guest room and put the suitcase on a chest at the foot of the huge four poster bed. She turned to look at her friend, hands on hips, head cocked. “Look, I don't know what went down on that ride to San Antonio, but Morgan was as prickly as a cactus when Ryan asked about it, and you've all but pulled out a knife. What is going on here?"
Allison shrugged. “Nothing's going on. We're just two people who rub each other the wrong way."
"Uh huh. Well, play nice at the dinner table, okay? We have a wedding to discuss."
"Yes, ma'am.” Allison raised her hand in a mock salute.
"I'll leave you alone to change,” Paige chuckled. “I hope you brought jeans because that's what we live in. Come on out in the back when you're ready. Ryan's out there busy with the grill."
"Okay. Just give me a couple of minutes."
When Paige left the room, closing the door behind her, Allison opened her suitcase and unpacked the few things she'd brought. The bathroom where she set out her cosmetics could have serviced a crowd, with a shower built of limestone that four people could easily fit into.
The bedroom she would have called neither masculine nor feminine, just Western. The hand stitched quilt on the massive bed had the Circle C logo in the center, as did the throw rugs on the polished hardwood floor. Two comfortable-looking arm chairs in the same blue as the comforter stood on either side of a small oak table in front of a window overlooking a rolling vista of meadows. Without being offensive about it, everything shrieked money.
Besides being drop dead gorgeous, she thought, Ryan Cutter was obviously financially well off.
The first thing she spotted when she made her way to the back patio was Morgan's rangy figure folded into a lounge chair, a bottle of Lone Star in one hand. His Stetson rested on the patio table, and the breeze riffled his thick, dark hair. He had changed from the familiar police uniform to faded jeans that seemed molded to his body, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing tanned arms with a dusting of hair. He was looking at Ryan whose arm was loosely draped across Paige's shoulder, and laughing at something one of them had said.
It was the first time in their short acquaintance Allison had seen him relaxed. Her stomach knotted and her heart flew up into her throat.
Stop it! He's just a man.
Just a man. He has two legs, two arms, and probably a huge—Stop it!
She smoothed her suddenly sweaty palms against the legs of her jeans, opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the concrete.
"Oh, good.” Paige moved out of the circle of Ryan's arm and reached toward a small tub of ice. “You're just in time for a beer.” She pulled one out of the tub, popped the cap off with expertise and handed it to Allison. “Lone Star. It's all we drink. And no glass.” She grinned. “Time to learn to drink from the bottle, Allie."
"Thank you.” Allison took the drink and moved in a wide circle around the patio table. She sat down as far away from Morgan as she could get.
"Hi, Allison.” Ryan reached out a hand, then turned back to the grill. “Glad you could make it. Paige has really been looking forward to this.” He kissed his fiancée on the cheek and the heat that flared between them was impossible to miss.
Allison looked down in her lap, unwilling to let either of them see how jealous she was of their relationship. She loved Paige. They were closer than sisters, and she was happier for Paige than she could express. She'd even been one of the conspirators to bring the couple back together. But watching them gave her a sudden wakeup call about just how empty her own life was. She didn't like the view one bit.
Trying to focus her eyes somewhere else, she glanced across the table to see Morgan watching her. Oops! That wasn't so good, either.
The smile had disappeared from his face, the stiff mask was back in place, and his blue eyes reminded her of a lake frozen over. Every bit of warmth she'd seen when he was talking to his brother and future sister-in-law had disappeared as if carried off by the breeze.
She swallowed and moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Hello, Morgan. How are you?"
"Allison.” He inclined his head a fraction.
So much for polite conversation.
"Well,” Paige said brightly. “How nice that we're all here together."
Ryan threw back his head and laughed, a full, rich sound. “Paige, honey, you have a wonderful knack for misstatement.” He set down the barbecue fork he'd been turning the steaks with.
"Okay, folks. Let's set some ground rules here. Morgan—” He pointed at his brother. “For the next couple of hours get the stick out of your ass and try to pretend you know how to behave in polite company. Allison—” He shifted his gaze to her. “I don't know what the deal is between you and my idiot brother, but you're a guest in our home and we'll do everything we can to make your stay comfortable.” He glared at Morgan.
"Please.” Allison tried on a weak smile. “I think Morgan and I just got off on the wrong foot. Maybe we should start over again.” She would not spoil Paige's wedding by acting like a bitch. She reached her hand across the table. “Hello, Morgan. I'm Allison Moore, Paige's best friend. Nice to meet you."
Morgan looked as if he'd swallowed a toad, but he stretched out his hand gingerly and shook hers. “Nice to meet you, too."
If a lightning bolt had shot upwards from their clasped hands, Allison couldn't have been more shocked. Whatever
had filled the air in the SUV on the drive to San Antonio had reappeared a hundredfold. Heat flashed through her entire body, so intense she was surprised everyone else didn't see it. Looking at Morgan, she recognized the same reaction in his eyes—desire, need, shock. Slowly he released her hand and she picked up her half-empty bottle of beer, swallowing some of the icy liquid and hoping it would cool her down.
Paige giggled. “That's the dumbest thing I've ever seen. Okay, now let's have dinner."
Somehow after that the tension eased enough to get them through dinner and a discussion of the wedding.
"No bachelor night out,” Ryan insisted. “My bride will kill me.” He winked at Paige.
"You got that right, bud.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him.
"Ad no stripper bars for the ladies,” he added.
"Get real,” Allison said. “Do you see any male strippers closer than San Antonio?"
"Just because you city gals tie one on the night before doesn't mean it's on this agenda.” But he smiled to take the sting out of his words.
"You'd be amazed at what us city gals do,” she teased, then noticed Morgan stiffen across the table from her. Uh oh! I need to find out what pit this is before I keep putting my foot in it. She quickly changed the subject. Paige brought out cheese and fruit and Ryan opened a bottle of wine.
"To the bride and groom,” Allison toasted, raising her glass, and everyone joined her. “So, Morgan,” she said, setting her glass down. “What happened with your dead body?"
Paige's eyes widened and she looked from Allison to Morgan and back again. “You know about that?"
"Morgan got the call just about the time he dropped me off. I can't believe someone committed a murder in White Tail."
"They didn't exactly commit it here,” Morgan told her. “But they did dump the body on us."
"You're kidding! Why here? Forgive me, but it isn't as if this town is on everyone's guided tour."
"No offense taken.” He shrugged. “That's the question we're all asking."
"Who is he?” Her curiosity was getting the better of her, and Morgan seemed to be more relaxed when he discussed his work.
"Another unanswered question. We can't seem to find out his name."
"Not even with his fingerprints?"
Morgan made a face. “His, uh, hands were removed."
"Removed?” Allison's mouth opened and closed. “You mean they cut off his hands?"
He nodded. “That's the deal. He must have really gotten on someone's last nerve, but why they dumped him on the Rose we still can't figure out."
Allison frowned. “The Rose?"
"King Donovan's spread,” Ryan put in. “The Yellow Rose."
"Oh.” Allison looked from Paige to Ryan. “I think I met him in town earlier."
"King?” Morgan's eyebrows flew up to his hairline. “Not likely. The old man's been pretty much of a recluse since he got sick."
"No, no.” She shook her head. “This was a man about your age. Maybe one of the hands?"
"What did he look like?” Paige asked, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “They've got some pretty good looking cowboys out there."
Allison missed Morgan's frown. “He was about six feet, dark hair, very good looking. He offered to help me fill my gas tank."
Everyone jumped as Morgan set his wine glass down with unnecessary force. “Tate."
"Tate?"
"King's son. He pretty much runs the operation now. And let me tell you, he'd like to fill more than your gas tank.” He stared at her. “So was he a big help?
Allison felt herself redden, heat streaking across her cheeks. “I can fill my own gas tank, Morgan. I think he got the idea."
A thick silence descended. Allison concentrated fiercely on cutting a slice of cheese into minute pieces, feeling Morgan's eyes on her like twin lasers boring directly into her.
Now what?
"So how did you leave it with him?” he finally asked, his voice like gravel in a tin can.
Allison gave up on the cheese and looked up at him. “I have no idea what you mean. I didn't leave it any way with him. He made his overture, I shut him down.” She placed her fork with careful precision on the edge of her plate and picked up her wine. “Although I'm sure I don't know why it's any of your business."
Morgan looked ready to cut steel with his teeth.
"More wine?” Ryan lifted the bottle, swallowing a smile.
"I think I've had enough to drink for tonight.” Morgan put his napkin down beside his plate and stood up. “Can I give you a hand with this, Paige?"
"I've got it under control.” She, too, was trying to keep her mouth straight. “But thanks, anyway."
"Then I guess I'll be going.” He frowned, smoothed out the frown, bit the inside of his cheek while everyone watched with curiosity. Finally, in a strained voice, he said, “Allison, would you like to walk out to my car with me?"
Allison nearly dropped her wine glass. She took two deep breaths, stood up, and told Paige, “I'll be back to help you in a minute."
"Take your time,” Ryan said. “If I help with the dishes I get to kiss the cook."
Paige giggled and flapped her napkin at him.
Allison followed Morgan outside to where his Expedition was parked, telling herself what an idiot she was to be doing this. What could they possibly have to say to each other?
When they got to the vehicle, he stopped and stood looking down on her. Allison was acutely aware of everything around them. The cicadas were singing their night song. In the nearest barn horses were nickering softly. Somewhere in a tree an owl hooted.
She waited, wondering what was coming next, wondering what she was doing standing out here with this man whose moods were surely going to drive her nuts.
After a long moment, he said, “It appears I've lost a lot of my social graces lately. And I don't think I was at my best the other day. I—haven't done the dating thing for a long time."
Allison simply stood there, waiting.
"I'd like to start again."
A smile flirted with her lips. “I thought we did that earlier tonight."
"That was for the audience. This is different.” He drew in a breath and let it out. “How long will you be here? I mean, are you leaving tomorrow or what?"
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well, it's Friday. Paige wants me to stay the weekend and go home after church on Sunday."
"Would you, that is, would you like to, I mean..."
"Go out with you tomorrow night?” She grinned up at him. “I'd love to."
Morgan's eyes widened as if he'd expected a different answer. “So that's a yes?"
"Absolutely. What time and what shall I wear? I only brought jeans with me, and the dress I wore from work. I planned to wear that on Sunday."
"Seven o'clock. Jeans will be fine. We're pretty casual around here. Not too fancy, you know.” The last was said with a certain tightness to his voice.
"Casual's fine. I'll be ready."
He jingled his car keys, then as if wondering if he was doing the right thing, placed his hands on her shoulders, leaned down and touched his lips to hers. The heat the touch of their hands had generated was nothing compared to the bonfire this simple kiss provoked.
Allison leaned into him, grateful for his hands on her shoulders because her knees were so weak she wasn't sure they would hold her. He tasted like a heady elixir, one that should have “dangerous” written all over it.
Then he lifted his head, his breathing uneven, and his hands tightened once on her shoulders before he released her and stepped back.
"Tomorrow night. Seven sharp."
"Seven.” She was surprised she could even talk. “Yes."
Then he was gone, leaving Allison standing in the turnaround with her blood racing through her veins at a galloping speed and her fingertips touching her lips.
Oh, Allie girl. What are you getting yourself into?
Chapter Five
When Allison made her way down
to the kitchen in the morning, it was almost ten o'clock. Paige was sitting at the kitchen table reading The Ledger, the White Tail weekly, and drinking a cup of coffee.
"My God, you're much too wide awake for so early in the morning. Whatever happened to sleep-late-Saturdays?"
"One thing I learned from the time Ryan and I first got together. Life at a ranch doesn't run on an alarm clock."
"Where's Ryan?” Allison yawned and stretched.
"Paige chuckled. “Long gone. Saturdays at the Circle C are work days for him."
"I thought he had a foreman who runs things for him?"
"John does a great job, especially during the week when Ryan's tied up with his law practice. But Saturdays Ryan's gone as soon as the sun is up, riding the pastures with John to make sure the cattle are where they're supposed to be, checking the breeding barns, going over growth records. And of course, during roundup he's here the whole time."
"I never realized what went into making the steaks we order at Outback.” Allison took the cup of coffee Paige handed her and sipped at the hot liquid.
"It's big business,” Paige agreed. “The Circle C is no small potatoes, either. We run five thousand head of cattle and that takes a lot of work."
"My God.” Allison dropped into a chair opposite Paige. “You sound like you were born here.” She cocked her head, studying her friend. “Tell me something. Was it a big adjustment for you? You know, moving from the city to a peanut-sized place like this? Living on the ranch, and all?"
Paige gave her a slow smile. “First of all, I love the ranch and everything about it. Did I ever think I would? Not hardly. And then I found out there's a lot more to White Tail than you might think."
"Oh, yeah?” Allison looked at her quizzically. “Like what?"
"When I was running from Michael and the wedding from hell, this place took me in as if I'd lived here forever. We're like one big extended family. Everyone goes to the Friday night high school football games, and the men's softball games. We socialize at The Pig's Eye. We—"
"Wait a minute.” Allison held up her hand. “The Pig's Eye? It sounds like a biker bar."
Paige shook her head. “Not at all. They serve hamburgers to die for, great hot wings and chili, and super nachos. Everyone goes there. It's like our own social club."
Cutter's Law Page 4