Destiny Wears Spurs

by Harmon, Kari Lee

  His gaze shot to his men, and his neck heated. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. Had they noticed? If they had, they were wise enough not to comment on it.

  Later that morning, he cut the wrong part of the fence ... twice. After lunch, he made his excuses and headed for the ranch. He wasn’t a damn bit of help anyway, so why not confront the source of his problem?

  Cody pulled his horse to a halt in the barnyard, only two hours after he’d left, needing a few minutes to think before facing Monica. He told himself he needed to check up on her because he hadn’t given her good instructions on what she should be doing this morning.

  Swinging his leg over Babe’s rear end, he vaulted to the ground to unsaddle the stallion and then paused. This would be the perfect time to show her how to take care of the horses.

  He tethered his mount to the corral fence and strode toward the barn. As he reached the open door, he peered inside and halted in mid-step. Someone stood doubled over, clutching the wheelbarrow, head hanging low and moaning. Logic told him it had to be her, but he’d never guess it looking at her now.

  A thick layer of grime and loads of sweat saturated her baggy clothes. Hell, even her wild hair had been tamed, lying dull and matted to her head. Why she’d worn white when she knew she had barn duty was beyond him. Not to mention, a sweat suit was way too much clothing for such warm weather.

  “City slickers.” He grunted. He hadn’t met one yet who had a clue when it came to ranching. A strong breeze chose that moment to carry an earthy scent to his nostrils. Manure.

  He scanned the barn and felt a wave of anger rush over him. She hadn’t done a damn thing he’d asked her to, except make twice as much work for him. He ground his teeth.

  “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Monica flinched as a booming voice echoed off the walls of the barn and blasted her with heat. Only one voice could do that to her. She lifted her head and a pair of black, worn-out boots confirmed what she already knew.

  Why now? She looked higher. The sun framed his silhouette and filled the entrance magnificently. Black Stetson, leather chaps, cowboy boots ... Lord, she could eat him up alive. Every time she looked at him, she couldn’t stop thinking about him kissing her. But as much as her eyes drank in the sight of him, he was the last person she wanted to see right then. He wasn’t supposed to be back this early. “Give me a few minutes to finish up, and I’ll join you outside.”

  His boot tapped the floor. “A few minutes to finish up?” He stepped into the light and cast a look around the barn. Judging by his frown, he’d noticed the water, hay and manure that covered everything. “Do I dare ask what happened?”

  She silently white-knuckle gripped the wheelbarrow.

  The muscle in his cheek pulsed, and he took several deep breaths. “Miss Hammond, I asked you a question.” He took another step toward her, his voice low and steady.

  She still didn’t move; she couldn’t. “I ....” What could she say? That she stunk at ranching and when she’d tried to ride that crazy horse again, she’d been kicked in the upper thigh before she’d even saddled the demon? Not.

  “Say something, woman,” he roared, stomping over and reaching her in four strides. He gripped her upper arms and looked like he was about to shake some sense into her. After a tense moment, he glared instead.

  “I can’t, the pain,” she confessed.

  Lord, her behind throbbed. As well it should, after yesterday’s episode of doing the slap daddy on the back of his beast, right after performing a really bad imitation of the chicken dance on the back of that demented mare.

  He stopped glaring, puckered his forehead, and then his lips parted. “You little fool.” His voice softened, and his grip relaxed. “I’m not a bastard, you know. Why didn’t you tell me you were sore from yesterday? Frankly, I was surprised you weren’t. Come on into my office, and I’ll give you some ibuprofen. That should fix you right up.” He turned and started walking but then stopped halfway there to glance over his shoulder. “You coming?”

  “Um, yeah.” She had to try. Letting go of the wheelbarrow, she took one step and cried out as a sharp pain knifed through her upper thigh, bringing her to her knees.

  “What the ...?” He reached her in seconds. “Out with it, Miss Hammond. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I, well, oh, fine. I tried to ride that insane horse again and--”

  “Did I, or did I not, specifically say no more dangerous stunts like yesterday?”

  “Yes, but--”

  “No buts. Follow my rules, or you will leave. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal,” she ground out and then bit her lip to keep from screeching what she really wanted to say.

  “This isn’t a game, woman. Snoozer may be old and slow, but if you don’t know what you’re doing, you can get seriously hurt.” He stared hard at her leg. “Let me guess. You surprised her from behind, and she nailed you in the thigh.”

  Monica felt her ears pulse as warm blood filled her face, but she refused to avert her eyes. She felt like the biggest idiot. If she never saw another pitchfork again, it’d be too soon. She’d pitched the fork, all right. Clear across the barn. She had tried so hard to do this, but nothing had worked right. Then she’d taken a break and decided to teach herself how to ride. Like that had gone any better. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

  Apparently, she wasn’t that tough.

  Cody stared into her eyes, and she lost the struggle. Twin tears rolled down her cheeks. Darn it. She swiped them away. “I got something in my eye.”

  “Right.” He cursed softly. “Can you stand?”

  She nodded.

  “Just a sec.” He jogged out the back.

  She shivered. The barn seemed cold without him by her side, but a moment later he returned, dragging an alarmingly big hose behind him. “Wh-What are you doing with that thing?”

  “If you hadn’t noticed, you stink.”

  She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “I see your point, but why can’t you get me back to my cabin and let me shower there?” Air whistled through her teeth as another spike of pain tore through her leg.

  “You’re hardly in any shape to shower. Unless you want me to wash your back,” he said, eyes dropping to her breasts, “I suggest you cooperate. Let me hose you off, and then I’ll take a look at your leg.”

  “You’re the boss.” He had no idea how badly she wanted to cooperate, but she had to remain professional no matter how well he filled out his jeans. She sighed. “Spray away, and make it cold. I’m dying under here.”

  “You should’ve melted by now, lady.” He ran a soapy cloth over her, turned the water on, and then hosed her off. Starting at the top of her head, he worked his way down to her toes.

  She felt like a soggy polar bear, but darned if she wasn’t clean enough to eat off. His firm lips captured her attention, and her stomach quivered over the image forming in her head.

  Stop it, you nitwit.

  “It’s gotta be eighty degrees outside. What possessed you to wear this getup? Were you trying to kill yourself from heat stroke and exhaustion?”

  “It was a little cool this morning.” She’d die if he knew the real reason she’d worn such an impractical outfit. Her worst nightmare came true as her baggy clothing clung to her, revealing everything beneath.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had a T-shirt on?” He shut the hose off and grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt. “Common sense should’ve told you to take this off earlier. Let me help you.”

  “No wait. It’s not a T-shirt.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You need to cool off. Anything’s bound to be better than this heavy getup.” He pulled her sweatshirt over her dripping head.

  His jaw grew slack and his eyes bugged, making her squirm. As he tugged the hem out of her sweatpants, he kept staring at her peach, satin and lace, spaghetti-strap nightgown. He finally pulled his gaze away from her pu
ckered nipples and croaked, “Well, this looks familiar. You sure do have a strange sense of fashion.”

  “W-With all the flapping I did yesterday, I-I was so sore ... and I um ... couldn’t lift my arms to pull this over my head. My sweat suit ... well, it um ... it was the only thing I had big enough to hide it under, okay?” How did he do that? She was a professional. She was a strong woman.

  She was a bumbling idiot.

  Irritated he could reduce her to that in seconds, she thrust out her chin and snapped, “Since when did my looks become part of the deal?”

  Cody chuckled silently, one corner of his mouth tipping up against his will. Her spirit intrigued the hell out of him. She was the most interesting thing to happen on the ranch in a long time. He looked forward to their verbal sparring matches, but he could tell she needed compassion right now. She tried hard to be strong, but beneath that proud façade lurked vulnerability.

  “Look at me.” He pitched his voice soft and low, lacing it with tenderness, and lifted her chin. An involuntary emotion he refused to identify seeped into his voice. “You’re so damned beautiful.”

  She looked up at him and whispered, “What?”

  Not trusting himself to speak another word, he couldn’t stop his body from ignoring his brain. He pushed her tangled, wet locks over her shoulders and laid his palms against her neck, stroking her jaw with his thumbs. Then he slid them down her throat, until his palms rested on her chest just above her firm breasts.

  Her eyes closed, and he felt her breathing quicken at his touch, her heart pound beneath his hand. It amazed him he had this effect on her. What could a city girl like her possibly want with a country guy like him? She might want to roll around in the hay with him, but she’d leave as soon as she found out the campaign proposal she was working so hard on didn’t even matter. Worse, he’d known about it from the beginning.

  He cursed silently and moved his hands to safer territory. Letting his fingers slide down the length of her slender arms, he held her hands. They stayed that way for several moments.

  It took everything he had to will his pulse to a normal rate, take a step back, then release his hold on her hands and wait. Her eyes fluttered open, glazed with passion, until a confused, hurt look flooded her face. She tried to mask it, and Cody almost gave in. He reminded himself even if she still wanted him after she knew the truth, he didn’t want to be in another serious relationship. Ever.

  “Come on. I’ll take you to bed,” he said, deciding he had to get her out of there before he did something stupid.

  “Oh?” Monica’s voice whooshed out, all breathy-like.

  He flicked a look at her mouth and then tore his gaze away. “You could use the rest, and I need to take a look at that leg.”

  “Oh, right.” She went rigid, her cheeks blossoming pink.

  “Right. Let’s get you out of your wet pants and shoes.” His hands shook as he touched her again, slipping her outer clothing off until she stood in nothing but her nightgown. “Wrap your arms around my neck while I carry you.” He lifted her and cradled her against his chest.

  She felt so good in his arms.

  “Whatever you say.”

  He nodded and then set out at a quick pace. Rounding the top of the hill, Cody stepped behind a pine tree to scope out the dude ranch. No one in sight. Relief bubbled through his muscles, releasing the tension in the back of his neck like a cork popping out of a fizzing bottle of champagne.

  Why’d she have to go and wear that damn nightgown again? It already haunted his dreams from the first time he’d seen it. Now that he’d seen it dripping wet and undeniably transparent, he didn’t plan on getting a good night’s sleep anytime soon.

  “Why are we stopping?” she mumbled into his shirt.

  “Everything’s fine. Almost there,” he replied. His constant woody made it difficult to walk. Gripping the cabin doorknob, he gave it a swift twist and shoved the door open. He slipped inside and kicked it closed with his boot heel.

  Cody placed Monica on the big bed and lifted her nightgown to examine her thigh. His probing fingers confirmed nothing was broken, but the tender-looking skin had turned various shades of black and purple. He slipped some liniment from his pocket and rubbed it in, stepping back the second he finished.

  “You’re not leaving, are you? What about the rest of me? My butt is so twisted up in knots I can’t stand it.” She pinned him with an accusing stare. “Let me remind you, it’s not entirely my fault.”

  “I, ah, I could call Cassie, if you want.” He cleared his sandpapery throat. Glancing at Monica’s hand, he shoved his own deep into his pocket. If he had to touch her again, he’d inevitably do something he had no damn business doing.

  Hell. He remembered why the dude ranch had looked deserted. “I can’t call Cassie. I forgot she’s taking the dudes on a sightseeing excursion today.” He scuffed the carpet with his boot, trying to think of something else.

  “Well, you have to do something. What about the stuff you rubbed on my leg? Won’t that work?”

  “You mean ....” He glanced at her body, clearly outlined beneath the nightgown, and swallowed hard. “You want me to massage your ... your ....”

  “Look, I don’t care what you massage, just massage something. I’m dying here.”

  “You asked for it.” Some of the things this little lady said shocked the hell right out of him. He was beginning to think she was purposely trying to drive him crazy. “We need to get you out of this wet nightgown and warm those muscles up.”

  “I couldn’t manage on my own this morning. I guess you could take it off for me.”

  “I said ‘we’,” he snapped. He was coming undone. Cody knew he had to help her, but dammit, he shouldn’t like it.

  “Excuse me.” She looked away.

  He rolled his head back and closed his eyes on a heavy sigh. She had no idea what she did to him. He looked at her. “Can we get on with it? I still have loads of work to do, remember?”

  Her eyes shot fire at him. If smoke steamed out her nose, he wouldn’t be a bit surprised. “If it’s too much trouble, never mind.”

  He stared her down and then blew out a hefty breath. “It’s not too much trouble. Let’s just get on with it, okay?”

  “Okay.” She seemed to wilt with relief. “Oh, no. I forgot about Buggy. Please make sure someone takes care of him. Poor thing. He must be starving.”

  “Buggy?”

  “You know. The baby cow.”

  “He’s called a calf, Miss Hammond. Around here, we don’t name our cattle. What the hell kind of name is Buggy, anyway?”

  “He has the cutest big brown eyes that bug right out of his head. It’s the first thing that popped into my mind, I guess.”

  “You have some strange thoughts ‘pop’ into that mind of yours.” He tried to stop his lips from twitching. “Don’t worry about, er, Buggy. Making sure my livestock are well fed is my job. Now, I’m gonna roll you over.”

  She blinked.

  “I don’t bite.”

  “You don’t?” She sounded ... disappointed? Jesus, did she actually want him to? If she didn’t stop looking at him that way, he just might.

  “Miss Hammond?”

  “Lay your hands on me and squeeze away, Mr. Rafferty.”

  He ran a palm over his face, shook his head, and then rolled her onto her stomach so she’d stop looking at him. She stiffened, relaxing as her body settled. Gripping the hem of her nightgown, he slid it up the length of her slender legs until he reached the firm little package he’d admired many times. But he’d never imagined he’d be squeezing, kneading and shaping those sloping curves, covered with the skimpiest pair of ivory-lace, string-bikini underpants he’d ever seen.

  His breathing quickened and his pulse began to thunder like stampeding cattle, until little beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. He shook off his train of thought and whisked her nightgown over slightly flared hips, a narrow waist, a delicate ribcage, a long, smooth back, and sexy tousled ha
ir.

  Her skin looked silky. Not like some perfectly toned model but real and feminine. So damned feminine. He reached out his shaking hand and caught himself before trailing his fingertips down her spine. God, she was beautiful.

  Making a fist, he clamped his teeth shut until he felt the muscles in his jaw throb and the veins in his neck bulge. He regained some semblance of control, tossed her nightgown onto the back of the dresser chair, and then steeled himself for what he had to do next. Slowly, he straddled her back, careful not to put his full weight on her legs.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she squeaked, calming considerably as he soothed the back of her neck with his palms.

  “Shhh. Relax, Miss Hammond. It’s more effective in this position. Trust me.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince as he started at the top of her head and painstakingly massaged his way down to her adorable toes.

  “Ow, oww, owww,” she howled.

  “It only hurts until the stiffness gets worked out, then it’ll feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  “Ah, ahh, ahhh,” she sighed in ecstasy a few minutes later.

  Would she feel the same with another man’s hands on her body? He hoped not. Where the hell had that thought come from? He knew exactly where. Monica was the first woman to get under his skin since his ex-wife.

  Not a good sign.

  * * *

  Cody couldn’t speak through the rest of the massage, and Monica just kept moaning. He had all he could do to contain his rampaging desire. Hell, he’d explode if he had to touch her much longer. Rushing through the last of her toes, he tucked the sheet around her, rolled her over, and then took a big step back from the bed.

  She looked like she’d been made love to for hours. Flushed cheeks. Wild hair. Limp as a wet noodle. She sent him a lazy smile with half-lidded, speckled-brown eyes.