“Well then,” Mrs. Biddle said. “Let’s start checking you out while you go grab whatever else you need so you can get on home.”
Within a few minutes Laurie’s groceries were bagged and ready, she’d signed the ticket, and she was herding Carrie and Amy toward the door. She was forced to draw the girls to a halt when a tall, leggy redhead strolled through the door and, with hands planted on her hips, stopped right in front of Laurie.
“Excuse us,” Laurie said.
“Oh, no need. I just wanted to get a good look at Trey’s latest plaything.”
Shock froze Laurie to the spot and locked her tongue firmly against the roof of her mouth. For an instant she couldn’t understand what on earth the woman meant. Plaything? Was the woman mean enough to call Trey’s daughter a plaything?
But the smirk on the woman’s face told her the remark was not about Katy. It was about her. Laurie didn’t know whether to laugh in the woman’s face—considering the state of affairs, or lack thereof, between her and Trey, such an accusation was certainly laughable—or claw the woman’s eyes out for maligning her character, and for doing so in front of Carrie and Amy, not to mention Mrs. Biddle and the sheriff.
But Laurie neither laughed nor lunged.
First had been the tension and ugliness at her parents’ house, which had sent her to Wyoming. Then an argument over the phone with her mother. Then Jimmy had called. Then the new tension between her and Trey.
This, from a total stranger, was simply too much. But she was holding herself together. She would not rant and rave and scream and kick the nearest wall. But neither would she stand there and take whatever this woman decided to dish out.
Laurie’s voice was calm when she spoke. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken. If you’ll excuse us, we’re on our way out.”
The smirk on the woman’s face deepened. “In more ways than one, if you’ve been around more than a few weeks. Trey doesn’t keep his women long.”
Laurie took both girls by the hand and turned away. “Mrs. Biddle, would you mind terribly letting the girls pick out one candy bar each and adding it to our tab?”
“Why, I believe that’s an excellent idea. Good afternoon, Cindy,” she added tersely to the redhead.
“But, Mama.” Carrie tugged on her hand. “The sheriff said there’s a storm coming and we should get home.” Carrie didn’t care for storms.
“We will, just as soon as you get your candy bars. Now go with Mrs. Biddle, honey. Sheriff, do you suppose you could give them a hand? I’d hate for them to grab the first thing they see without looking at everything that’s available.”
The message in Dane Powell’s eyes said he understood completely. He was to drag out the candy bar selection for as long as possible. He nodded in acknowledgment. “Be glad to. Bobby, why don’t you go ahead and load Ms. Oliver’s groceries in the back of that Flying Ace Blazer.”
“Will do, Sheriff,” said the teenager on sacking duty for the day.
Dane gave the redhead a final, slow look, then he nodded. “Cindy.”
“Sheriff. Don’t tell me she’s working on you, too. My, my, won’t Trey be interested in that.”
“In law enforcement,” he said to the redhead, “they teach us to make sure we have proof before we make accusations. It’d be a real shame to blame an innocent party, now wouldn’t it.”
The smirk on the redhead’s face didn’t abate one whit. She merely waited until Dane turned to follow the girls, then she looked Laurie up and down in a manner so condescending Laurie wanted to scream.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said to Laurie. “You don’t look all that innocent to me.”
“Just hold it.” Laurie raised a hand palm out. “You’ve taken your shot. Now it’s my turn. I don’t know who you are or what your problem is. I can guess, but frankly I don’t care. Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m working for Trey Wilder on a temporary basis taking care of his daughter while he tries to find a suitable housekeeper to take over before I go home to Utah in a couple of weeks. Meanwhile,” she added, lowering her voice, “if you’re smart you’ll never, ever let me learn that you’ve been talking about me again, and most especially not around my children. That was inexcusable. Don’t do it again.”
“Or what?” the redhead sneered.
“Well,” Laurie said thoughtfully. “As I see it, I have two options. One would be the law, since you’re slandering my good name and reputation.”
“Oooh, I’m scared.”
“The other would, I think, be against the law, but I can probably get away with scratching up that pretty face of yours by claiming justifiable violence.”
The redhead laughed and looked down at Laurie from her six-inch superior height. “You and what army, sister? He’ll never marry you, you know.”
Laurie eyed her carefully. “Have you been drinking?” What else would explain this woman’s behavior?
“He wouldn’t even marry the mother of his own poor little baby. He’s already married. To the damn Flying Ace Ranch. That’s his mistress, his wife, his world. You’ll never get him to leave it.”
The very idea of Trey leaving the ranch was inconceivable to Laurie. He was part of the Flying Ace, and it was a vital part of him. Asking him to leave would be like expecting him to cut off his right arm. “Is that what you did? Tried to get him to leave the ranch?”
For a quick instant the woman’s eyes darkened with pain. Then without so much as a blink, vicious anger flared there again. But before she could start on another tirade, Mrs. Biddle and the girls were back, with Dane herding them toward Laurie.
“We’re all through here, Laurie, and your groceries are loaded. I’m sure Cindy’s finished, ah, welcoming you to town. Come on.” He took Laurie’s elbow and steered her around the redhead. “I’ll walk you out.”
It would have seemed rude for Laurie to pull free of Dane’s admittedly light hold, but while she appreciated his help with the girls a moment ago, she didn’t particularly appreciate being led out of the store like a recalcitrant child.
Outside, the wind gusted through the parking lot, tossing an abandoned paper cup end-over-end past the three vehicles parked next to the building.
“Thank you, Dane, but I don’t need your protection.”
Dane’s lips twitched. “It wasn’t you I was protecting.”
Laurie raised her brow. “Oh, really?”
“Here we go, ladies.” He opened the backdoor of the Blazer and helped Carrie and Amy climb up into the back seat. Carrie had to climb over the baby’s car seat, which had been left strapped into place by the center seat belt.
Then Laurie had to climb in with them to place Katy in her carrier and fasten the straps snugly. Katy smiled and waved her fists.
“Was that a thank-you?” Laurie asked the baby. “Well, you’re welcome.”
When Laurie crawled back out the door to get into the front seat, Dane was still there.
“Are you okay to drive?” he asked
Laurie blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I thought maybe…” He nodded toward the grocery store, and she knew he meant Cindy, the redhead. “Sometimes when people get angry, it’s not safe for them to drive.”
Laurie worked her mouth to keep from grinning. He was so obviously concerned for her that she couldn’t stay irritated with the high-handed method he’d used to get her out of the store.
“I’m fine, Dane,” she said. “Thank you. While I might be tempted to floorboard it all the way home, my cargo is much too precious to risk.”
Dane’s smile was filled with relief. “That’s what I like to hear. I wish more people thought like you.”
Laurie reached for the handle of the front door of the Blazer, but he beat her to it and pulled the door open for her.
“Thanks,” she said. “Any word on those cattle rustlers in the next county?”
“Nothing yet,” he told her. “But we’ll get ’em.”
“I hope so.”
She c
limbed into the driver’s seat and, after a final farewell, drove out of the small parking lot and headed out of town.
On the way into town they’d stopped by the hospital and had Amy’s wrist looked at by the doctor. Amy had sworn it wasn’t necessary, that the ice pack Laurie had put on it that morning had done the trick, but Laurie had decided to take advantage of this trip to town, just to be sure.
The doctor had pronounced the wrist healing nicely, and advised Amy to do without the bandage and start using the wrist more, although not to the point of making it hurt.
So they’d taken care of that, bought groceries and had a run-in with one of Trey’s old flames.
All in all, an interesting day so far. She couldn’t wait to see what else would happen.
Chapter Twelve
The clouds along the peaks of the Wyoming Mountains continued to build throughout the afternoon. It was nearly suppertime when they started rolling down and east, blocking out the sun and turning an ugly gray with a slight greenish cast that meant the possibility of hail.
Trey drove the tractor back to the shed as fast as he dared. If it was going to hail on his crops, dammit, he didn’t want to add insult to injury by having the tractor beaten to pieces.
He pulled the tractor into the big shed just as the rain started. It was a hundred yards to the house, but he didn’t mind getting a little wet.
What he got was soaked, and then some. First it was big, fat raindrops slapping at him as he shut the wide doors on the shed. He turned toward the house, and after he took a dozen steps, the bottoms of those ugly gray clouds ripped open and drenched him in frigid rain.
He ran. But not fast enough to beat the hail. A few small ice pellets at first. No problem, he thought. He had only about fifty yards to go. He ran faster, his boots splashing through puddles already on the path from rain that came too fast for the ground to absorb.
Then the hail got bigger. And bigger. Ice the size of golf balls pelted and pummeled him, threatened to knock him down. He covered his head with his arms as best he could and sprinted the last ten yards to the backdoor.
Laurie had finished putting away the groceries, had fed and changed Katy and was gathering the ingredients for spaghetti to go with the loaf of French bread she’d bought at the store when the rain suddenly started pounding the roof. Then came the hail. She hoped Trey wasn’t out in this. Even small hail could do serious damage, and this wasn’t small hail.
In the next instant the backdoor slammed open and Trey barreled in, water pouring off him in sheets.
“Oh, good heavens, Trey, you’ve been out there in that?”
“Not for long. I was halfway in from the shed before it got bad.” After pushing the door shut behind him, he shook like a soaked dog.
Looked a lot like one, too, Laurie thought with sudden sympathy. Then, when he stepped into the kitchen leaving a muddy puddle on her clean floor, she got a better look at him. “Oh, God, what happened? You’re bleeding.” She tore a paper towel from the roll near the sink and rushed to his side.
“What?” he said, raising a hand to his forehead. “Where?”
“Here.” She pressed gently with the paper towel and blotted away rainwater and blood.
Trey winced. “Ow.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It doesn’t look bad. It’s almost stopped bleeding. What happened?”
“One of those big chunks of hail got me.”
“Only one? You’ll probably have bruises all over your head and shoulders, at the least. Your skin’s like ice, Trey,” she said. “Go get in the shower and I’ll bring you some dry clothes.”
Trey started to protest that he didn’t need a shower, he’d just had a doozie of one on his way to the house. But he could feel goose bumps rising along his arms and legs, and suddenly it was all he could do to keep from shivering. A hot shower was sounding better by the minute.
“Okay.” His nod was jerky. “Hot shower. But I’m going to drip all the way down the hall.”
“That’s what they make towels for,” she told him.
“Boots.” Stiffly, no longer able to stave off the shivers, Trey turned back to the boot jack near the backdoor and pulled off his boots. No sense adding mud to the mess he was going to make.
He must have been out in the storm longer than he’d thought, Trey decided, for him to be this damn cold. But a couple of minutes later, standing under the hot spray of the shower, he warmed rapidly.
Laurie quickly grabbed a towel from the laundry room and tossed it down over the large puddle that had formed beneath Trey when he’d stood still long enough to let her blot his head. Other than that, she didn’t waste time cleaning up after him. That could wait.
She rushed down the hall to his room and gathered clean underwear, jeans and a T-shirt. At the bathroom door she paused. The shower was running, so it should be safe for her to slip in, leave his clean clothes for him, gather his wet ones and slip right back out again.
It might have worked. It should have worked. It nearly worked. She opened the bathroom door and peeked inside to make sure it was safe. She could just make out his form behind the frosted glass door of the shower. A cloud of steam rose to the ceiling and water gurgled down the drain.
Stepping into the humid warmth of the room, Laurie placed Trey’s clean clothes next to the sink on the vanity. She was leaning down to gather the wet clothes he’d left in a pile on the floor when the shower suddenly shut off and the frosted door clicked open.
It was hard to say which of them was more startled when their gazes met.
“Oh.” Laurie’s mouth went dry. “I, uh…” Her voice died in her throat as her gaze involuntarily lowered. She was sure it was involuntary. She wouldn’t deliberately ogle a naked man. At least, she never had before. Yet somehow she couldn’t help but follow the path of the droplets of water as they trickled down his tanned, taut flesh. Down his cheeks, his jaw, his throat. Into the gleaming mat of crisp black hair on his chest. Along arms roped with muscles developed not on a machine in a gym, but from hard, physical labor.
Back up to his throat and over that inviting hairy chest again and down, over a washboard abdomen, and down, along a single line of hair to—
“Oh.” Heat stung her cheeks. She jerked her gaze up to his face, but couldn’t meet his eyes.
Trey shrugged. “I can’t help it. This is what happens to me every time I get near you.”
Laurie swallowed. The fingers of her right hand squeezed tight around a wad of wet denim. “It does?” Idiot. What a stupid thing to say.
“Every time. You, ah, want to hand me that towel, or would you rather just look?”
Laurie acknowledged the heat racing through her veins and the sudden throbbing down deep inside in answer to Trey’s obvious arousal, but the humor of the situation was not completely lost on her. “Gee,” she said, fighting a smile, “how long do I get to make up my mind?”
“Or,” he added, “you could strip and join me in here. There’s still plenty of hot water.”
For Laurie all desire to laugh faded, burned to ashes by the heat generated by the pictures flooding her mind. Pictures of Trey welcoming her into his shower. Of him pressing her back against the wet tile. Of first his hands and then his mouth, trailing down her body, feeling her, tasting her, inch by inch.
She cleared her throat and looked down to find herself wringing water from his jeans. “I, uh, that is…” She stopped and blew out a breath. Damn. Just this once she wanted to be able to say yes. She wanted to stand up, fling off her clothes and throw herself at him. Devour him, and let him devour her.
But there were two little girls out there waiting for their supper.
And if that wasn’t an excuse, she didn’t know what was. In reality, all she and Trey needed was a few minutes. The girls weren’t likely to suffer if she didn’t leave the bathroom for another five minutes.
“Laurie?”
She heard the question in his voice, and she heard more. She heard hope and anticipat
ion mixed with doubt.
Slowly she raised her gaze and looked him in the eyes.
Trey’s breath caught somewhere south of his throat. She was his. Right now she was willing. She wanted him.
But dammit, he didn’t want their first time together—God forbid it be their only time together—to be rushed, in the cramped and not altogether safe confines of the shower, with two little girls likely to knock on the door if their mother didn’t show up soon.
“Go,” he said softly.
“Trey, I…”
“I know. Later.” He offered her a smile. “For now, just go.” He met her gaze for another long moment, then turned away.
“Oh, Trey, your back.”
Trey frowned and looked down over his shoulder, as if he could see his own back.
Without thought to the possible consequences, Laurie rose and stepped to the shower door. “It’s covered in red blotches.” She placed her fingers gently next to an angry red injury.
Trey flinched at her touch.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Here’s another cut. It’s still oozing.”
Trey clenched his fists at his sides to keep from turning around and pulling her to his chest. “It’ll be all right,” he told her, his voice sounding rusty.
“I should put—”
“Laurie, if you keep touching me, I’m going to turn around and touch you, and I’m not going to want to stop.”
Laurie left her hand on his damp shoulder for a long heartbeat before trailing her fingers down his back, then away. She stood silent for a moment, staring at his broad shoulders, his lean hips, his strong legs. Then, when her heart couldn’t possibly beat any faster, she bent and gathered his wet clothes and reached for the doorknob.
“I’ll go,” she said. “For now.” She pulled open the door and felt the rush of cool air. “Leave your shirt off when you come to the kitchen. I’ll put some ointment on those cuts.”
By the time the spaghetti sauce was simmering, sending a mouthwatering aroma wafting through the kitchen, the storm had rolled on across the rangeland, and Laurie found herself amazingly calm.
Daughter on His Doorstep Page 14