“What do you think, Hoss?”
“What?”
Mark smirked behind his mug. “What do you think about nightly patrols around the perimeter until those coyotes are stopped?”
“Oh. Good. That sounds good.” Trey bobbed his head as if he had been listening.
“Right.” Mark’s grin suggested he knew otherwise.
Adam stood and gathered his dishes. “Thank you, Miss Greta, that was excellent.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Steven agreed. “What’s for dinner?” His eyes sparkled with the possibilities.
Greta smiled and her cheeks turned pink with all of the praise. “Lasagna.”
“With garlic bread?”
“Of course.”
All of the men moaned. Steven even rolled his eyes and wiped the imaginary drool from his mouth. Adam made a smart-ass comment about Jack’s girlfriend being a vampire, which launched a volley of disparaging remarks about each other’s women as they all helped clear the table.
Trey stood amid the teasing and camaraderie, painfully aware that he didn’t belong. It was as if he was watching them from inside a bubble, present but not acknowledged. He didn’t miss the way the men hovered around Greta, like worker bees protecting their queen, occasionally sneaking suspicious glances his way as if he was a threat to her well-being. Was their behavior because of his accident, or had he always on the outside looking in? Or worse?
“Hey.” He spoke before he realized he formed the thought. “If it doesn’t mess up anyone’s plans, how about tomorrow night we have a cookout in the fire pit? We still have the fire pit, right?”
As one, the group turned to gape at him with their mouths open in shock. The silence was so deep, his own breathing sounded like a bull ready to charge. What the hell had he said now?
“That’s a good idea, Hoss.” Mark nodded. His approval spurred the group into action and murmurs of agreement. “We could do with a little fun and relaxation.”
“I’ll go to the market on my way back from the post office,” Greta suggested with an overly bright smile. “And I’ll have the butcher send over some steaks.” She passed each man a huge metal lunchbox. “Here are your lunches. Be safe today.”
One by one, they headed out until only Ben remained.
“How are you really doing?” he asked Trey in that deep bass voice that as a kid always made him snap to attention.
Apparently, the reaction continued into adulthood. He straightened his posture. “As well as can be, I guess. Greta’s been a real help.”
“You’ve got yourself a fine woman there. If nothing else, hold on to that.” A meaty hand clapped Trey on his good shoulder. “I’ll see you out on the field.”
When they were finally alone, Trey turned to Greta. “What the hell did I say?’
“Hmm?” She barely glanced in his direction as she started placing plates in the dishwasher.
“Why did everyone stare at me like I was an alien? And what did Steven mean about me not smiling?” It didn’t make sense. Was he not happy here?
“He was just exaggerating.” She waved his concern away with a soapy hand. “You get pretty intense about the ranch. You expect a very high standard from all of the hands. I think… I think.” She paused as if searching for the right words. “I think no one was expecting you to want to throw a party so soon after coming home.”
Maybe she was right and he was reading too much into things. Damn, he was getting paranoid. “I thought that maybe I would remember something if I got a chance to talk to everyone in a relaxed setting.”
“It couldn’t hurt.” She closed the washer and set it to start. Her long dark hair fell down her back, kept off her face by a cheery red ribbon.
An image floated before his eyes of dark hair and a red ribbon lit by the light of the full moon. Greta smiling and laughing as she twirled in circles. He blinked several times, but the vision remained.
“Trey? Are you okay?” She took a step toward him as if he might fall over.
“Red ribbon,” he whispered in voice that sounded low and distant.
“What?”
He pointed a shaky finger. “You wore a red ribbon in your hair the night we met.”
Greta stilled, her lips parted. The blood rushed from her face, leaving her pale and trembling. Her mouth worked open and closed for several seconds before she spoke. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
The cherrywood and stainless steel kitchen swam out of focus as he mentally fell back into the past.
7
Seven years earlier…
The night of the Harvest Festival was unusually warm for October. Trey released the top button of his white Western-cut shirt in an attempt to get some relief from the stifling humidity. “Is it hot out?”
Mark, dressed similarly but all in black, looked at him in amusement. “Not especially. Is there a fire inside you that you can’t put out?”
Trey rolled his eyes. “Funny.”
Maybe Mark wasn’t too far from the truth. No, there wasn’t a fire, but there was definitely a need festering, an ache. Lately he’d been feeling a loneliness that went down to the soul. “Are you hooking up with Angela?”
Mark grunted. “No, we broke up a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“No problem. Are you meeting Joanne?”
“Who?”
Mark laughed. “Joanne, the hairdresser.”
“I haven’t seen her in months.” And even then it had been only the one date. It had taken all of five minutes for him to realize the bubbly blonde was not for him or his ranch.
“Really?” Their boots crunched along the gravel drive. “You know, Hoss, I think we’ve been working too hard. The ranch is doing well. The heifers are bred. Slaughtering is done for the season. I say let’s kick back, drink some beers, kiss some girls, and have ourselves a right good time.”
With Trey’s golden-boy looks and Mark with his what the ladies called “smoldering darkness,” they’d have no trouble procuring some female attention.
“Sounds good to me,” Trey agreed. “And I’m Little Joe.”
The entrance of the Martinez’s orchard was already crowded as almost the entire town showed up for Mission’s social event of the year. Although the trees were stripped of their fruit, the sweet smell of apples still hung in the air. A dance floor and boardwalk games were set up in the middle of the parking lot, complete with twinkle lights and bales of hay for decoration.
Trey’s stomach rumbled as they passed the food stalls, but it wasn’t food he hungered for. Mark was right. He had been working hard, really hard, and it was paying off. His parents’ ranch was turning enough of a profit that he could start thinking about expanding and saving up for a new truck. Maybe even find a wife.
No, he wanted more than just a wife. What he longed for was a partner, a woman who’d work beside him, someone who sparked his interest all of the time and not only between the sheets. Unfortunately, he had yet to find the elusive soon-to-be Mrs. Armstrong. With him living in the middle of cattle country, most of the girls who hadn’t gotten knocked up in high school had headed off to the big city to find adventure and men with money, leaving few prospects behind. Somehow, his future wife was going to have to drop into his lap, and he didn’t think he was that fortunate.
Mark squeezed his way up to the makeshift bar and held up two fingers. Within seconds he handed Trey an icy bottle.
He accepted it with a grateful nod, then took a big swig. His eyes prowled the crowded dance floor, noticing who had already hooked up and who stood in the shadows. He spotted Ben dancing with a pretty redhead. By the way the big man had her wrapped in his arms, Trey knew they weren’t gonna stick around for long.
Joanne the hairdresser was there, and when their eyes met she huffed and turned her back on him. He lifted the bottle to his lips to hide his smile. Apparently, she was still smarting over being turned down for after-dinner entertainment.
“Hoss,” he said to Mark, “I’m afraid it’s going to
be a long night.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the crowd on the dance floor parted, like a scene straight from the movies, and revealed the loveliest vision he’d ever seen.
A woman stood directly across the dance floor. Christmas lights hanging from up high picked up the red in her long dark hair, creating a seductive halo above her head like a neon sign flashing, “Here she is!” Holding that glorious mane in place was a fire-engine red ribbon that matched her silk dress, and her figure was straight out of 1950s Hollywood. Full breasts, a nipped-in waist that led to wide hips and shapely legs peeked out from under the hem of her flared skirt. She reminded him of a photograph of Jayne Mansfield his granddad used to have tacked up in his office in the barn and hidden from his grandmother.
Trey stared and stared until his eyes went dry and the bottle nearly slipped out of his fingers.
He glanced around the milling crowd to see who she was talking to and was surprised to see her with Mark’s sister, Melody. Excellent, he had an in. His tongue worked overtime to get the moisture back in his mouth so he could speak.
“Hey, Hoss.” He slapped Mark on the back. “Who’s your sister talking to?”
Mark looked over his shoulder then froze. After a long lingering pause, his gaze slid back to Trey and proceeded to look him up and down. Heaving a big sigh, he muttered, “I should have known.”
Hah, he did know her. “Who is she?”
Mark took his sweet time pulling a long draft from his bottle. The curve of his lips suggested he was enjoying making Trey wait. “Ah,” he sighed after swallowing. “That was a mighty fine beer.”
“Who is she?” Trey barely kept from growling.
“Her name is Greta. She’s Melody’s roommate’s cousin. She’s from over the mountains visiting for a while. I think she’s teaching a course this quarter at the college.”
“A course in what?”
Mark shrugged and began to peel the label off the bottle. “I don’t remember. She’s smart and seems nice.”
“Seems nice? Have you met her?” He bit back a curse when Mark continued to look away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Mark snorted and looked at him as if he had gone insane. “Tell you what? Melody’s roommate’s cousin’s in town? Why would I tell you that?”
“Because she’s the most beautiful woman in the world?”
Mark looked back over at Greta and kissed her curves with a scrutinizing gaze. “You think so?”
“Are you blind? Half the men here can’t keep their eyes off her.” Which was true, because he’d been taking note of which potential suitors he could take out if it came down to a fight.
Hold up. Trey knew Mark was a connoisseur of fine women. There was no way he would not find Greta attractive. Unless… “Have you asked her out?”
“What?” Mark shuffled from side to side.
“You did. You asked her out and she turned you down, didn’t she?”
“Said something about cowboys and bad news,” he mumbled as he looked at the ground.
“Introduce me.”
“No.”
“Come on. Introduce me.” He grabbed Mark by the shirtfront and dragged him through the crowd.
“Damn it, Trey,” Mark grumbled. “I can walk on my own.” He knocked off Trey’s grip and smoothed down the front of his shirt.
Trey’s heart pounded a thundering beat as he drew closer. In a field of daisies, she was like an orchid, exotic and rare. He knew deep in his gut that in the next few seconds, his life was going to change forever.
“Ladies,” Mark greeted as they approached. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”
“Checking up on me, big brother?” Melody pouted. “Hey, Trey,” she said, with a flirtatious smile.
Mark’s sister, and her roommate Gina, had been giving him the eye since they learned the difference between boys and girls. And Trey was always careful to never give the girls cause to act on that flirtation. Mostly because he never felt the same way back and second, Mark would have killed him.
“Melody, Gina,” he said with a nod and turned to his dream woman. “Hi, I’m Trey Armstrong.”
Eyes the color of the darkest chocolate looked up at him. The most luscious lips he had ever seen broke into a wide smile. “Hello.” That one word came out so smoothed and cultured he felt it slide all the way down his spine. “I’m Gina’s cousin, Greta O’Neal.”
She held out her hand. Her palm was smooth, but small calluses roughened the pads of her fingers. He wondered what the difference in texture would feel like stroking over the rest of his body. His wild thoughts, however, were cut short by her very business-like handshake. For such a little thing, the firmness of her grip surprised him. Even in her three-inch heels, she barely reached his chin, but there was enough meat on her bones that he knew he could love her long into the night and she’d be able to take every thrust.
“How are you, Mark?” She offered a soft smile.
“Fine, thank you.” He didn’t quite meet her gaze. “You look beautiful.” When his sister sulked, he quickly amended. “Oh yeah, you look nice too.” Then he finally noticed Melody’s plunging neckline. “What the hell are you wearing?”
Trey turned Greta away from the bickering brother and sister. “Dance with me, Greta.”
She arched an amused eyebrow at his command. “Excuse me?”
“Come on. Dance with me.” The request rolled off his tongue like a dare.
She looked him over with shrewd calculation in her eyes. Her gaze touched him from the top of his shaggy head to the bottom of his dusty boots and back up again. Did her breath catch when it passed over his belt buckle? ’Cause his sure did. It felt like an eternity passed until her weighted gaze returned to ensnare his as she slowly reached out and took his outstretched hand. His heart resumed its beating. He felt as if he’d been put to a test and passed.
The fates smiled upon him, and the band started to play a slow song when they stepped on to the dance floor. Her posture was perfect. Sophistication and class graced her every movement as her arms swung along her side. She was like Grace Kelly in his mom’s favorite movie, To Catch a Thief.
Greta didn’t protest when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in tighter than was proper for a first dance. Her arms encircled his neck and her hands rested along his nape. Greta’s softness felt so good against him, his body grew hard and his blood heated. He shuddered and felt the sweat gather along his spine.
She was in his arms, like he wanted. Now what?
“So, Greta, where are you from?” Damn. That was original.
“Seattle.”
When she didn’t elaborate, his mind went blank. Usually, every woman he was with loved to talk about themselves. Never before had it been up to him to fill the silence.
“How long are you visiting for?”
“Until the end of November. I’m teaching a class at Central this quarter.”
“You’re a teacher?”
“Not really.” The corner of her lip quirked up. “I’m more of an artist.”
“An artist?” He said the word as if he’d never heard it before.
“Yes. I make jewelry. I’m teaching a class on jewelry making.”
His forehead puckered. “They teach that in college?”
She laughed at his confused expression. “Yes, they do.”
“Wow. I’ve never met an artist before.”
“I never would have guessed.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.
“Can you actually earn a living at being an artist?” So what if he sounded a bit like a hick. In his world, practicality meant the difference between making profit or losing his shorts.
“Yes,” she said on another laugh. “Can you make a living at ranching?”
“I sure am trying. Hey, how do you know I’m a rancher?”
“You’re Mark’s boss. I’ve heard of you.”
“Really?” He gave her his best bad-boy smile. “What have you heard?”
Her
answering smile was just as wicked. “That you’re a rancher.”
“And?”
“That’s all.” She shrugged. The teasing light in her eyes made him wonder if she was playing with him.
“Hmm. Did you hear I could dance?” Before she could answer, he twirled her out, then in, her skirt flaring in an elegant arc around her knees. Then he spun them in a circle and finished in a low dip. Both of them were panting a bit heavier as he drew her back upright.
Her eyes sparkled as she looked him over again, this time visibly impressed. “Very smooth.”
“Thank you.” He smiled smugly. “Have dinner with me.”
Her smooth brow crinkled even as her lips curled up. “Demanding thing, aren’t you?”
“Only when it comes to something I want. Go out with me. Please?” he added for good measure.
She batted her long lashes batted up at him. “Thank you, but no.”
“No?” Damn, he thought he had her. “Why not?”
“I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“I heard you told Mark that cowboys were bad news.”
Greta looked away, slightly chagrined. “Maybe.”
“And you would know that how?” Had she had a bad experience with a past boyfriend? The thought of her with another man made his grip tighten around her waist.
“I just do,” she said in all seriousness. “I’m not the kind of woman you’re looking for.”
He raised his own brow at that. “What kind am I looking for?”
“You small-town boys are all the same. The long-term plan is to find a good little wife who will keep the home fires burning. One you can keep barefoot in the kitchen and popping out your babies whenever you choose. But for tonight, you’re looking for an easy lay. And I’m neither one of those.”
“Now, darling, that hurts. It’s not fair to judge me so.”
“Tell me that was not your plan when you came here tonight.”
She had him there on both fronts. Holding her this close, it was all too easy to imagine waking up beside her every morning. Starting a family, building a future. Apparently his expression showed his thoughts, because she stiffened and pulled away.
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 118