by Mary Brady
A cabins-in-the-woods kind of thing.
When they filled the cabins for the three to four prime months out of the year, they should do well.
“Less than a quarter mile beyond two small houses is where the cabins will be built,” Baylor said after she had spent several minutes gaping. “Ready?”
“Yes, I am.”
Baylor held the passenger-side door and she climbed up into the warmth of the truck. Then he jogged around and jumped in the driver’s side, and when he did, the truck got even warmer inside. Hormones. Had to be hormones.
“Thanks for having the truck so cozy.”
“That would have been one of my brothers, most likely prodded by one wife or the other.”
“I knew I was going to like Amy and Holly.”
“They’re like sisters. It would be a shame for them to have to split up and go separate ways.”
“This project means a lot more than income to your family.”
“It does.”
He took a hard grip on the wheel as he steered away from the big ranch house. “Should I get in my car and run away before I get in to deeply?”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
The brim of his hat shadowed his features and she realized she really knew little about Montana and less about the Doyle family. She might have done it again—rushed into something without enough thought.
I’ll make it work.
“Hey—” she poked him on the hard muscle of his upper arm “—your Sheriff Potts saw me at my worst and he sent me back here instead of running me out of town. Give me a peek at what’s going on, I can take it.”
He nudged his hat back on his forehead as if it would help him think better.
“Ranching doesn’t support families the way it used to. Income has gone down, but more importantly the cost of living has gone up. We’ve been able to keep going because the largest part of the income stays in the family. Mostly we’re our own ranch hands. We hire on during the heaviest part of calving and when it’s time to shift cattle around to different feeding grounds. We let out some logging to a small local company—controlled, environmentally friendly logging that brings in a bit of income.”
“And that’s not enough.” She had asked for the truth and just because it was starting to scare her, she wasn’t going to back away.
“It was as long as there weren’t any kids’ futures to worry about.”
“So you decided to try for the tourist population.”
“We started a few years ago and it’s been popular. We’ve had a waiting list every season. At the Shadow Range we provide several things not everyone else this far out does. Satellite TV and internet, granted both are intermittent depending on the reception, but it’s there enough of the time to satisfy all but some of the teenagers. The houses have electricity, gas and indoor—”
“Plumbing? One of my favorites.”
His grin warmed her, a lot more than it should have.
“Then we have features most people’s homes don’t—fireplaces with an endless supply of wood on the porch, daily wildlife viewing and, although you might hear a train whistle in the distance from time to time, there isn’t even a whisper of highway or freeway traffic. And if you want it, you can have maid service and meals included.”
“Roughing it the way city people like it. I have to tell you, I’m one of them. Give me a good old pillow-top mattress and a dishwasher any day.” But she was finding out in detail she didn’t have to have either of those.
“We add horseback riding, fishing, guided trail walks and trips down the river on pontoon boats.”
She tried to imagine what it would be like to be a guest at the ranch. What would she want? A picture of Baylor and her floating down a lazy river in a pontoon boat resting in each other’s arms popped into her head. Her eyes sprang wide. She sat up and leaned forward as if interested in something outside the window. Talk about whoa.
“What are you looking at?”
“I was wondering…” She paused so she could quickly make something up because she sure as heck wasn’t going to tell him what she was thinking. “Does the nonranching part get to all of you?”
He was silent while he bounced the truck over the uneven road, out beyond where the two smaller houses sat and onto the edge of a small meadow.
“From time to time, but keeping the ranch for everyone’s future is more important than not washing someone’s dirty sheets. And we get to help the poor city folk get a glimpse of what a really rich life is like. You know, dirt under your fingernails, getting stiff from being in a saddle too long, sleeping out under the stars with the snakes.”
“You make it sound as nice here as I imagined it would. I might have to rent out one of the cabins we’re building—but there’d be no snakes for me, please.” She wondered what he’d say if he knew how little she was kidding about renting one of the cabins, reptiles or not.
“The wooded area over there…” He’d stopped the truck, and pointed out into the distance.
“Wait. Where do you put the tourists? Aren’t those two houses for Holly and Amy and their families?”
“In the spring, while Lance and Seth are busy calving and doing ranch work, Holly and Amy are busy packing up to move out of their homes and into the big house. We all live together in the late spring and s ummer. There are seven bedrooms and it’s, well, we’ll call it cozy.”
“It’s good you all like each other. Maybe we should build more cabins to start with and that might give Holly and Amy a break next spring.”
“If we build them all at once, you can invite all your California friends who are looking for a break from the crowd.”
Bam. A reality blast thrown in her face. All her friends?
It was bad enough to know most of her so-called friends had deserted her, but to have to admit it to a stranger—a customer—pointed out a far too dismal future. Blah.
BAYLOR WONDERED WHAT he said that made her face go all long and thoughtful, and then he reminded himself it didn’t matter.
He knew himself well enough to know KayLee Morgan could be dangerous territory. Dangerous because he couldn’t help himself. Rescuing damsels in distress had been his thing since he kept the bullies in grade school from picking on Abby Fairbanks when he was nine and she was twelve. But damsel rescuing had to take a second seat to this business deal. Rescuing this one could put his family’s welfare in jeopardy.
“Over there—” he pointed toward the far side of the meadow “—is where you propose to start the first cabin.”
She leaned closer to the windshield and peered at an isolated stand of pine and larch trees. “Perfect. We’ll need to set down the roads first so the equipment can be moved easily in and out.”
She reached for the door handle.
“Hang on. I’ll drive over and you can get a closer look. It gets muddy out there when the snow melts.”
She nodded. Her expression held a mixture of concentration and excitement. He wondered if he would have gotten that reaction from the other bidders.
Baylor realized she had a hand on her belly. She seemed to be speaking to her baby and that simple gesture made her seem totally invested in the project. At that moment, she seemed more like a partner than a vendor. He wasn’t sure whether that was bad or good.
Bad if it made him lose his objectivity, and good if it made her care more about his family’s future.
Suddenly, she seemed very attractive and not just because she was sexy. He stopped the truck. The heat must have been making him stupid. He needed fresh air and badly.
BAYLOR STOPPED THE TRUCK at the edge of the stream and leaped out, but KayLee climbed down before he could get around to help her. She didn’t need help, she couldn’t allow herself to need help, but she wanted to stand where one of the cabins would be built, feel the site, make sure it was as perfect as she had hoped it would be.
While Baylor rummaged around for something in the toolbox in the bed of the truck, she made her way across the
uneven, somewhat icy terrain to the middle of the grouping of ponderosa pine trees. Their sweet scent filled the air and she inhaled deeply and let herself imagine.
She could see a cabin nestled between the largest trees where there was a natural space. There was enough access from the side of the lot away from the stream that only one small sapling might have to be removed to make way for the heavy equipment.
It was the perfect spot for a cabin, a home, her mountain home. She shook her head at the futility of that dream and swiped a rascal tear from the corner of her eye.
“What do you think?” Baylor spoke softly from behind her as if he knew he was intruding on the mood.
Upbeat, that’s all she’d show him, not tears. In fact when she wasn’t pregnant anymore, she vowed to never cry again for any reason.
“It’s perfect,” she said when she was sure her voice wouldn’t squeak or waver. “I’d put the cabin right here, offset from the middle.”
“That’s where me and my brothers would pitch a tent when we wanted a wilderness adventure and our mother thought we were too young to be too far away.”
The sound of his voice drew closer until she could feel the heat of his breath against the back of her neck. KayLee fought a sudden intense craving to have him touch her, put a hand on her waist—well, where she used to have a waist—or put his lips to her neck. Oh, heck and darn. She took a step away.
“This is a special place, and I think a cabin here would be great. We could call it the Whispering Winds Cabin because the wind swishes like a whisper through the pine needles.”
“Maybe not,” he said and chuckled.
“No?” Why not? Why was he laughing? Was he going to squash all her ideas?
He nudged her shoulder with his fingertip to get her attention. “It’s a fine name, but Whispering Winds is the name of the neighbor’s ranch. Thinking of names as you build them is a good idea, though. Cabin one, two, three, et cetera is kind of boring.”
She shifted to look directly into sky-blue eyes that studied her face. She dropped her gaze to keep him from reading her soul.
The sparkle of golden hair in the V of his cream-colored shirt beckoned her with a “come on and touch me.” She wanted to put her fingers in the V and loosen the rest of the buttons so she could press her palms into the middle of that soft hair, feel the ridge of muscle where his pecs bulged. She fought to keep her eyes from moving even lower and then with a hormone-balancing force of will brought her gaze back up to his face.
She smiled and shifted from one foot to the other. “You know…”
“What do I know?” He was amused and not embarrassed by her assessment.
“Besides the obvious handsomeness of your face, speaking from a Hollywood perspective, you have uncommonly nice individual features.”
“A Hollywood perspective?”
“I saw enough of the people my husband cast in films to know a great jaw and a sexy camera-friendly mouth when I see them.”
“Sexy, too?”
She parted her lips to speak again, but stopped when she realized she wanted to ask him to kiss her.
She stepped backward.
Ask him to kiss her? Yeah. That should send him fleeing back to the ranch house, where he could call the sheriff to toss her out of Montana for good.
But he didn’t look upset. He might even look…interested?
Not good.
They were both being silly, not just her.
Worse.
They had known each other only a few hours. She had an excuse—pregnancy.
She tried to put distance between them but he stuck to her side. When in the center of the clearing, she slipped on an icy patch and found the electric touch of his hand on her arm long enough to stabilize her—long enough to make her burn inside and out.
That’s it. A drastic intervention was called for.
“Thank you.” She stuck her hands in the pockets of the jacket. “Okay. All right. I want to be upfront about something so I can keep it from growing out of proportion.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Go on.”
“I’m attracted to you and I want you to know the pregnancy hormones racing around inside of my body are doing that to me. I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice guy who is perfectly attractive to most women.”
“But you aren’t most women?” He stepped closer, she was sure he did that to make her step farther away…and she did. She wanted to skitter away, but she didn’t do skittering very well these days.
“Unfortunately, I am most women, and right now, I could eat you up without even sitting down.”
He grinned. “This is turning out to be a very interesting day.”
“I’m afraid it’s not really me talking.”
“It’s the hormones?”
“Afraid so. I usually have more control than…”
“Than what?”
“I know you’re yanking my chain now, but I’ve been around pretty faces for years and I’ve always been able to keep a lid on feeling anything about any of them, because a pretty face is just that.”
“I’m a pretty face?”
She stepped closer to the stream. “Oh, you are such a pretty face.”
“And you find yourself helplessly attracted to me?” He took another step toward her.
“If you come any closer, I might have to defend all of us from me. I might seem to be a helpless, pregnant thing, but I have to tell you, I’m not.” She drew herself up tall and put fists to her hips to take up as much space as possible.
“Never entered my mind that you were.” He stopped and leaned against a convenient pine tree, letting her put some distance between them. “Helpless in any way.”
“I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. I am so much less censored these days, but I thought if I got it out in the open I could enlist your help in keeping me from doing something we’d regret.”
He moved again, stalking unhurriedly toward her like a big cat after prey.
“Darlin’,” he said with an exaggerated drawl, “speak for yourself.”
CHAPTER FOUR
KAYLEE FELT HER MUSCLES tense. She couldn’t budge, even to flee. Baylor approached where she stood by the burbling stream.
Stuff had come tumbling out of her mouth today, stuff that horrified her to hear out loud even if it was the truth.
The big rancher took another deliberate step, concentration suffusing his features.
He was coming—she knew he was—to grab her by the borrowed jacket collar and throw her off the ranch himself. And she’d be lucky if that’s all he did.
He took another step, and then he stopped and threw his head back and laughed.
She did a slow fish-mouthed gape. What the hell—heck—are you laughing at? hung frozen, unspoken, on her tongue.
“KayLee.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She hated to be in a position to apologize, but there was nothing for this situation except to beg forgiveness and hope Baylor Doyle had a big…um…heart.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His sincere expression told her he wasn’t joking or being dismissive.
Relief sapped nearly all the energy from her legs. She leaned forward and put her hands on her wobbly knees and then straightened. “I know it’s—I’m so idiotic to…”
“KayLee.” He stopped her with a raised hand. “You will so fit in around here.”
“What?”
“It’s good to know you won’t be horrified by the goings-on at the ranch. There are fewer inhibitions way out here than people think—at least it’s true on this ranch.”
“Uh, it’s not the cow and horse sex is it?”
He made a face as if her words shocked him and laughed again.
She grabbed the sides of her borrowed knit hat and tugged it down until it hid her eyes. “I can’t believe I just said that. If you threw me out right now, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“It’d be easier to keep you than to try to explain to my family. Did you make ev
eryone in Southern California blush?” He sounded too kind, and…well, maybe tolerant when he spoke.
She lifted the edge of the hat and blinked at him. “I didn’t. Really. I used to be sane and nice, even intelligent.”
Shade from the windblown pine branches flickered across his features. “You’re still nice. It’s all the things going on in your life that’re making you a little—”
“Extreme? Crazy? One brick short of a load?” She narrowed her eyes. “And what do you mean? All what that’s going on in my life? How much do you know about me?”
“More than you know about us, I’d wager.”
What had she said? She had practiced her presentation so often, she was sure she hadn’t dragged her personal life out for them all to examine. What had they done? She turned slowly away and stared into the partially ice-covered brook. The water flashed and coursed in plain view and then sometimes hid beneath a layer of snow-covered ice.
The sheriff trusted these people or he wouldn’t have sent her back…unless he was one of those bad cops from the movies and these people were all psycho. Too extreme? Yes, it was. She took a deep breath of the cold air to ground herself.
If she had stepped into a horror movie, she wasn’t going to wait until some dark night to find out. She’d demand of Baylor what was up and judge his reaction. She could only hope he didn’t pull out a chainsaw from his back pocket.
Cold seeped trough the toes of her shoes and the seams of the well-worn brown jacket. She started to shiver, but she faced Baylor. “How much do you know about me and how?”
He reached into his jacket pocket.
Oh, God.
He studied her for a long second and then produced a battered old red camera.
“You’re cold—” he handed her the camera “—but I thought you might like to take a couple photos before we get in the truck.”
“It’s not a chainsaw,” she said as she breathed out a sigh.
“No. I keep all my gas-powered tools in my work-coat pocket,” he said very seriously.