It Takes A Cowboy (Heart Of The West #5)

by Gina Wilkins

  *

  BLAIR HAD NEVER slept well in strange surroundings. The loft bed was quite comfortable, but the night sounds were different from what she was accustomed to. She dozed on and off, spending the time she was awake staring at the stars through the skylight above the bed, alternating between wondering what she was doing there and hoping the gamble would pay off.

  The sun was just rising when she abandoned all attempts at sleep. She ran a brush through her hair and pulled thick socks over her bare feet, deciding her cotton pajamas were decent enough covering for breakfast. The cabin was very quiet when she padded downstairs, and both bedroom doors were closed. Apparently, she was the only early riser this morning.

  Taking care to be quiet, she made a pot of coffee and gazed out the kitchen window while it brewed. What she saw outside was so appealing that she carried her coffee to the small deck attached to the back of the cabin. Huddling against the morning chill, she settled in an Adirondack chair and sipped her hot coffee, watching nature waking up around her as the sun crept a bit higher in the pinky-purply morning sky.

  She could get used to this, she thought with a contented sigh, already aware that the ever-present tension in her neck and shoulders was slowly easing.

  The kitchen door opened behind her, and a sleep-gruff male voice greeted her. “Good morning. Are you always such an early bird?”

  She turned her head to smile at Scott, but her smile wavered when she saw him. He was so incredibly attractive. How could he possibly look this good still rumpled from sleep, his hair tousled, his shirt wrinkled and untucked over his jeans, his feet bare? She could almost laugh at how foolish she’d been to think she was bidding on a conservative, buttoned-down businessman.

  She cleared her throat and tried to keep her eyes focused on his face rather than the intriguing triangle of tanned skin revealed by his partially unbuttoned shirt. “Good morning. There’s coffee in the...oh, I see you found it.”

  He sipped from the mug she hadn’t noticed in his right hand. “It’s good.”

  She nodded toward his bare feet as he settled into a chair beside her. “Aren’t you cold?”

  “No. Compared to being at the top of Mount Everest during a blizzard, this early morning air is merely pleasantly mild.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve been through a blizzard at the top of Mount Everest?”

  “Well, actually, I was only two-thirds of the way up,” he admitted. “The blizzard pretty much ruined the trip.”

  “Your ranch must be quite successful,” she remarked, thinking of the adventure trips, the airplane, this lovely cabin in the woods.

  “Are you asking if I have money?”

  “No, of course not. I—”

  “Because I do. Tons of it.”

  His matter-of-fact tone made her blink. “Oh. I—”

  “My father was the only offspring of well-to-do parents. My mother was the only child of a filthy-rich couple. When they died, their wisely invested money and all their business holdings came to me. And I went to the Lost Springs Ranch for difficult boys.”

  He wasn’t looking at her, but was watching a squirrel romping through the trees. Blair studied his unrevealing profile. “How old were you?”

  “Twelve when my family died. Fourteen when my grandparents shipped me to Lost Springs.”

  He’d been angry, Blair thought. Bitter. Lost.

  Like Jeffrey.

  “How long did you live there?”

  “On and off until I graduated from high school. By the time I left, I knew how to channel my anger more productively.”

  “By climbing mountains? Racing cars? Jumping out of airplanes? Riding bulls?”

  “Don’t forget snowboarding and hang gliding. I’ve done those a few times, too.”

  “And your ranch? Who takes care of things while you’re risking your neck for kicks?”

  “I pay people quite handsomely to take care of things there.”

  Blair frowned. She really didn’t understand Scott McKay at all. Maybe he could get through to Jeffrey—but did she want him to? The last thing she wanted was for her nephew to end up as reckless and unconventional as Scott seemed to be. And yet...

  “Hey. What’re you guys doing out here? Jeez, it’s freezing.”

  She turned toward the door, pushing whatever she might have said to the back of her mind. “Good morning, Jeffrey.”

  “I’m hungry. And I’m cold.”

  She rose. “Then go back inside and get dressed while I make breakfast. You shouldn’t be out here barefoot.”

  “Scott’s barefoot.”

  “And I’m freezing my, er, toes off,” Scott commented dryly. “I was just trying to impress your aunt with how macho I am.”

  “Aunt Blair isn’t easy to impress,” Jeffrey confided.

  Scott chuckled. “Then I guess I’ll just have to work harder at it.”

  Blair swallowed. That sounded a bit too much like a challenge for her comfort.

  *

  SCOTT OFFERED to help Blair make breakfast, but she declined his assistance. She liked to cook, she reminded him. She didn’t mind making her contribution in the kitchen since she had no intention of climbing onto the roof and hammering shingles.

  Scott chuckled. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he assured her. “Jeff and I finished the roofing repairs yesterday. However, if you would like to haul and split firewood...”

  “I think I’d rather make pancakes,” she replied with a wry expression that made him want to kiss her. Actually, everything she did made him want to kiss her, he thought with an inward grimace. It was an urge that was growing stronger with each passing minute. He no longer wondered how Blair would react if he kissed her; he speculated, instead, about what she would do when he kissed her, as he fully intended to do before the weekend was over.

  The pancakes were excellent. Scott was glad Blair had volunteered to cook rather than chop wood, and he told her so, making her smile. “I prefer it this way myself,” she agreed.

  “So what are we doing today?” Jeffrey asked around a mouthful of food.

  “Swallow before you talk,” his aunt advised.

  Jeffrey gulped, then asked again, “What are we doing today?”

  Scott set his orange juice glass aside. “I thought we’d do some fishing.”

  Jeffrey cocked his head with an expression of interest. “I’ve never been fishing.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope. Grandma didn’t fish and neither does Aunt Blair. My dad’s going to take me deep-sea fishing pretty soon.”

  Scott happened to be watching Blair when the boy made that announcement, and he saw the quick flicker of sympathy that crossed her face. She obviously doubted her brother would ever follow through on his promises to his son. “Well, we won’t be catching any sharks or sailfish today, but with a little luck we might snag a trout or two.”

  “Are you going to fish with us, Aunt Blair?”

  “I’m not much of a fisherman,” she answered with a smile. “I believe I’ll stay here and finish the book I started yesterday.”

  Scott smiled then. “Good book, huh?”

  She glanced at him to answer, their gazes meeting across the table. “Yes, it’s very suspenseful. Of course, I want to get back to my other reading as soon as I finish this book,” she added quickly, if without much enthusiasm.

  Scott nodded gravely. “Of course. You can’t waste the whole weekend just kickin’ back and relaxing, can you?”

  She gave him a repressive look. “It is possible to relax and improve the mind at the same time.”

  He was beginning to find it almost impossible to resist her when she turned prissy and disapproving. It made him even more tempted to misbehave, just to watch her eyes flash and her lips purse so appealingly.

  He really was going to have to kiss her soon.

  *

  AN HOUR LATER, he and Jeffrey stood side by side at the rushing stream a half hour’s hike from the cabin. It took all Scott’s concen
tration to keep the boy from snagging either of them with fishhooks. Fortunately, the kid was a quick study and was soon casting quite creditably, giving Scott a chance to relax a little.

  “Having fun?” he asked, skillfully whipping his bait out to a promising-looking hole in midstream.

  “This is cool. Wish I could hook one, though.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it. Just keep trying.”

  By noon, they hadn’t caught any keepers, but Jeffrey still seemed to be enjoying the experience. Scott set his rod on the ground. “I’m getting hungry. How about you?”

  “I could eat. What have we got?”

  Rummaging in the insulated carrier he’d brought with them, Scott pulled out two individual-size cans of Vienna sausages, a tube of crackers, a small plastic bottle of mustard, two bags of dried fruit and some packaged oatmeal-raisin cookies. Two cans of soda were still reasonably cool; he handed one to the boy and opened the other for himself.

  Jeffrey looked doubtfully at the very plain fare. “This is lunch?”

  “You were expecting caviar?”

  “Well, no, but...”

  “Redneck picnic. Eat up.”

  Jeffrey pulled the ring on his can of sausages. “I don’t think Aunt Blair would consider this a healthy meal.”

  “Hey, we’ve got protein, grain and fruit. What more could she ask?”

  “She thinks you gotta have something green at every meal. She’s really into eating green stuff.”

  Scott peered thoughtfully into his can. “There’s some fuzzy green stuff growing on these sausages. Does that count?”

  “Eeww! Gross.”

  Scott laughed. “Just kidding. There are too many preservatives in these cans to allow any green stuff to grow.” Just to prove the food was edible, he laid a sausage on a cracker, squirted mustard on it and popped it into his mouth.

  Somewhat experimentally, Jeffrey imitated his actions. They munched in companionable silence for a while, and then Scott asked casually, “So your aunt makes you eat healthy, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah. You’d think we’d drop dead if we ate burgers and fries more than once or twice a month.”

  “Nice to know someone cares if you’re eating right, isn’t it?”

  Jeffrey shrugged. “It gets old sometimes. My grandma never cared if I wanted burgers or nachos or burritos all the time.”

  “Blair wants you to be healthy. That’s her way of showing she cares about you.”

  Jeffrey mumbled something around a cracker.

  “Do you like living with your aunt?”

  The boy crumbled a piece of cracker between his fingers. “It’s okay...at least until my dad comes back.”

  “Oh? Then what?”

  “Then he’s going to take me with him. He travels all over the world. Never spends much time in one place. He says nothing ties him down.”

  Including his son, apparently. Scott kept that thought to himself, being careful not to let anything show in his face. “That’s the way you want to live? Always on the move? Never having the same people around you? What about school—your friends?”

  “I hate school,” Jeffrey muttered. “And I don’t have many friends.”

  “Why not? You seem like a cool guy to me.”

  The boy flushed a little, looking both disconcerted and pleased by the comment. “The guys at my school are all geeks and losers.”

  “All of them? I find that hard to believe.”

  “Well, it seems that way to me.”

  “Maybe you haven’t really gotten to know any of them well enough to find out for sure.”

  Shrugging one skinny shoulder, Jeffrey muttered, “What’s the point? I’ll be leaving pretty soon. When my dad comes.”

  Scott thought about the distance he’d sensed between Jeffrey and Blair. Was Jeffrey holding himself back from her, too, in preparation for the time he would leave? And what was Blair’s excuse? He’d never even seen her hug the boy. Was it fear of rejection that kept her from reaching out to him, or was she protecting herself from getting too close in case Jeffrey’s father did come to reclaim him?

  It occurred to him that perhaps Blair didn’t have deep feelings for her nephew—that she saw the boy as a burden. A responsibility. A problem. The way Scott’s elderly grandparents had come to think of him...?

  No. He didn’t want to believe Blair could feel that way about the snub-nosed kid munching crackers in front of him. Sure, maybe Jeffrey was a pain in the neck, but who could blame him? He was too confused about his future to even make friends at school.

  He wondered how to work the conversation back to Blair. As it turned out, he didn’t have to.

  “D’you think Aunt Blair’s pretty?” Jeffrey asked out of the blue.

  “I think she’s very pretty. Why?”

  “There’s this guy—Hal somebody. He hangs around my aunt sometimes, looking at her all goofy. I think he wants her to go out with him. I don’t like him.”

  Scott didn’t like him, either. As a matter of fact, he really disliked the guy, and all he knew about him was that his name was Hal and he looked goofy at Blair. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you like him?”

  “He treats me like a dumb kid. And he keeps telling me how lucky I am that Aunt Blair took me in and how I owe it to her to make something of myself.”

  Scott winced. He’d heard too many speeches along that line when he was a rebellious kid. And the only thing they had accomplished was to make him even more angry and determined to do what he wanted.

  Despite what everyone had said, he hadn’t considered himself fortunate to be dumped on his grandparents’ doorstep. He’d wanted the family he’d lost. He’d wanted the life he’d had before the fiery car crash that had taken it all from him. And no amount of preaching or lecturing could have convinced him that he was lucky.

  He pushed the unpleasant memories to the back of his mind. “So what does your aunt think about this Hal guy?”

  Jeffrey shrugged. “She’s always nice to him, but she doesn’t really smile at him, you know? Like she has to be polite, but not too much.”

  After giving that summary a moment’s thought, Scott decided he liked the sound of it. Blair often smiled when she looked at him. He determined right then to make sure she had even more reason to smile for him.

  “Maybe you should ask her out,” Jeffrey suggested casually. “She likes you, and you don’t act like I’m stupid.”

  “That’s because I don’t think you’re stupid. And as for me asking your aunt out—I don’t think this is the time to discuss anything like that.”

  “Whatever. But it’s okay with me if you want to.”

  Scott shook his head at the unsubtle young matchmaker. “I’m happy to know I have your approval. Now, how about getting back to our fishing? We can’t go back empty-handed or Blair’s going to think we’re wusses.”

  Jeffrey tried an experimental grin. “We don’t want that to happen.”

  “You’re darn right we don’t. Grab your gear, partner.”

  As Scott stashed the remains of their picnic and prepared to fish again, he thought about their conversation. The extent of his disapproval upon hearing that some other guy was interested in Blair had taken him by surprise. He’d known he was attracted to her, but he hadn’t realized quite how much until he’d pictured her with another man.

  As Jeffrey smiled shyly at him and asked another question about fishing, Scott wondered just what he had gotten himself into by agreeing to participate in that bachelor auction.

  *

  BLAIR FINISHED the book around noon. The cabin seemed awfully quiet after the nonstop action of the story. She wondered how Scott and Jeffrey were getting along—and whether Scott was taking advantage of the opportunity to talk to Jeffrey about his future. Maybe this afternoon of male bonding would make all the difference in Jeffrey’s outlook. If so, every penny she had spent at the bachelor auction would be well justified.

  She rummaged in the kitchen and found a single-serving ca
n of vegetable soup in the pantry. Since Scott had told her he and Jeffrey wouldn’t be back for lunch, she dined alone on the soup and a handful of crackers. She wondered if Scott always kept the kitchen stocked or if he’d made arrangements to have food brought in for this weekend. The available fare was simple, but adequate. They didn’t have to worry about going hungry even if the guys caught no fish this afternoon.

  After cleaning the kitchen, she wandered into the living room. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent such an indulgently lazy day. She really should have brought her briefcase and portable computer, but not knowing Scott’s plans, she hadn’t been sure she’d have the chance to get any work done. Now, thinking of all the paperwork she could have gotten out of the way this afternoon, she realized she should have brought her laptop along.

  Yet she was aware that the familiar knots in her neck and shoulders were gone and that she hadn’t needed an antacid in more than twenty-four hours. Maybe taking a weekend off wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

  The least she could do, she thought conscientiously, was to make good use of the remainder of this leisure time. She picked up the heavy political treatise, determined to finish it. The book had received a lot of attention and generated much debate among legal and political experts. The controversial conclusions drawn had piqued Blair’s interest, and her only excuse for not wading through it sooner had been lack of free time. She had the time now.

  Settling in a chair, she tucked her feet beneath her and opened the cover. She found the page—not very far from the beginning—where she’d left off when Scott had plucked the book from her hands and replaced it with the well-written thriller.

  Fifteen minutes later she found herself standing in front of Scott’s bookcase studying the titles of the mysteries, thrillers and adventure stories crammed on the shelves. Torn between vague guilt and an unfamiliar sense of defiance, she selected another novel by the author of the thriller Scott had recommended the day before. If she was going to be lazy, she might as well do it as thoroughly as she did everything else, she thought with a wry smile, curling into the chair with the paperback and a cold diet soda.

  Scott and Jeffrey found her there a couple of hours later. “Still reading that...no, I see you’ve started another one,” Scott commented cheerfully.