by Nika Rhone
Which was why she should be here right this minute taking care of their guests and making his life easier, instead of forcing him to make excuses for her absence. It was unacceptable behavior from his future wife and hostess. A fact he would be sure to impress upon her after the ceremony. Oh, he’d have to act the simpering bridegroom to keep her happy and smiling for the cameras.
But once she was legally bound to him…she would regret every second of embarrassment she ever caused.
Chapter Eleven
Dinner on the Circle R ranch was an experience like none Amelia had ever encountered. While the ranch hands had their lunch out in the small building near the bunkhouse that served as their mess hall, breakfast and dinner were taken in the main house with the family. Since most of the time that meant just Kim and Hank Raintree, it made good sense.
In theory.
In fact, it made for a loud, somewhat claustrophobic group of very large men and two medium-sized women seated around the massive table in the kitchen. With Daryl and Amelia squeezed in, there was barely enough room for everybody, but no one seemed to mind. They just dug in and ate.
Amelia found herself sitting between Daryl and Chaz. While she had no problem being there, Daryl wasn’t nearly as pleased. In fact, he seemed downright surly while Chaz entertained her throughout the meal with stories about the various rodeos he’d ridden in when he was younger. Which had to have been very young, considering he couldn’t be much over forty. He’d taken a lot of championships before coming to work on the Raintree ranch, and he wasn’t shy bragging about them.
Several of the other hands made occasional rude comments, although they did keep it clean in deference to Amelia and Kim. The meal had the raucous energy she’d only seen at family dinners at Lillian’s house. When all three Beaumont brothers were together, things were never dull.
Manuelo, the young man who’d nearly fallen into the horse manure earlier, although she’d never admit she’d witnessed it, was seated across the table from Amelia, hanging on Chaz’s every word.
When he stopped talking long enough to fork some of the delicious pot roast into his mouth, Manuelo said, “Chaz took the All-Around six times.” The awe in his voice was palpable.
The term was foreign to her, but it sounded like something worthy of extra boasting. “That’s very impressive.”
Chaz grinned at her. “You have no idea what it means, do you?”
“I’m sorry, no,” she replied with a small laugh. “I’m not familiar with rodeo, but I assume that’s a lot?”
“It was a record.” The twist of his lips said he wasn’t thrilled about the past tense of that statement. “Until some young buck came along and bested me out of the title.”
She didn’t need to ask who that young buck was. Not the way Chaz’s gaze shifted past her to the man sitting on her right, who hadn’t opened his mouth at all during the meal other than to put food into it. Although to be fair, Chaz hadn’t given anybody else much of a chance to speak.
Manuelo’s jaw was all but on the table, eyes darting between the two men. “Awesome.”
Amelia took a sip of water to hide her smile. Like it or not, the teen’s hero worship had just found another target. She turned to look at Daryl, whose concentration focused solely on his plate.
“Do you still hold the record?” she asked.
“No idea.”
Amelia blinked at the abrupt reply. Oo-kay then. Clearly, Daryl wasn’t interested in bragging about his accomplishments. How strange. In her experience, when men had something they considered brag-worthy, they wrung every last drop out of it.
Falling back on her training, Amelia shifted the conversation to less prickly ground with a comment about the pregnant mare. That led to a discussion about the breeding program the ranch ran, which in turn led to a litany of bloodlines that were on the wish list for future pairings.
Rather than diffuse things, however, the horse talk only seemed to wind Daryl even tighter. They were seated close enough that she could sense the coiled tension in his long, lean body, like a rubber-band propeller on a model airplane that was being stretched turn after turn until it either had to be let loose, or snapped.
Daryl, thankfully, chose the first option. Laying his knife and fork across his plate, he pushed his chair back from the table. With a brusque thanks to his mother for the meal, he exited through the kitchen door, not slowing as he grabbed his hat from one of the pegs driven into the wall there for that purpose.
Conversation stumbled into an uncomfortable silence as the door banged behind him. Ignoring the small pinch of discomfort in her belly, Amelia used her most encouraging smile and asked the oldest of the hands, Zeke, which horses he thought might be best for her if she decided to try her hand at riding while she was there. Of course, all of them had an opinion on that, and the rest of the meal passed with no more mention of rodeos or Daryl’s abrupt departure.
Once dessert and coffee had been inhaled, the men made their way out to do whatever evening chores they had. Each one thanked Kim for the meal and made a point to nod or tip an imaginary hat to Amelia and wish her a good night. Finally, it was only Kim and Amelia left in the kitchen, surrounded by a mountain of dirty dishes. Shaking her head as she brought her plate to the garbage can to scrape off, Amelia said, “I don’t know how you managed to make such a huge meal and end up with no leftovers. I thought for sure when I saw the table that you made enough to last for the whole week.”
Kim shrugged, stacking empty plates. “Ranching is hard work. The boys build up an appetite. They won’t get much done if I don’t fill the hole in their bellies.”
Turning from the garbage, Amelia noticed for the first time hers was the only plate that had needed to be scraped of uneaten food. Every other plate had been the next thing from licked clean. Even Daryl, with his early departure, had managed to finish his meal first. Embarrassed, Amelia added her plate to the stack Kim set next to the sink to be rinsed. She’d left a good portion of her food uneaten the last time Kim had fed her, too. Although to be fair, both times the food had been put on her plate for her, so she wasn’t responsible for the portion sizes.
“I’m afraid I’m not used to such big meals,” Amelia said, even though Kim hadn’t given any indication of being upset or bothered by the wasted food.
“You didn’t eat like you were on one of those ridiculous starvation diets.” Kim put the last of the dishes on the counter before grabbing a sponge and dampening it in the sink. “Even though you look like you are.”
Amelia winced. “I’m not.” She was on the my-nerves-are-shot-to-hell diet. “And I don’t want you to think it has anything to do with your food, which has been delicious. My stomach has always been a little touchy, and lately it’s been a lot worse. It’s going to take me a little time to build my appetite back up to where it should be.”
Kim gave her a considering look. “If I had to guess, I’d say your stomach problems have something to do with the reason you’re staying with us for the next little while. No.” She held up a hand when Amelia started to speak. “I don’t need to know what brought you here. Daryl said not to ask, so I won’t. But don’t you worry. We’ll get you fed up in no time while you’re here.” She put a finger to her lips and hummed in thought. “Smaller meals, I think, and more of them. And more of my tea. It will help your nerves as well as your digestion.”
A pang of sadness filtered through Amelia. Kim had known her for less than a day, and already she’d shown more awareness and consideration of Amelia’s eating issues than Amelia’s own mother had in the past six months. But then, Meredith Westlake had a wedding to plan. There hadn’t been time left to spare for her daughter, even if she was the bride.
Which she wasn’t anymore. Thank God.
Watching Kim wipe down the table made Amelia feel like a useless lump. She considered excusing herself to retreat to her room, but then she heard Winnie’s voice in her head. People work here. Well, while she was staying on the ranch, however short a
time that might be, she was going to work, too.
Since asking would put Kim in an awkward position, she took a page from Lillian’s book of ‘easier to ask forgiveness than permission’ and started rinsing the stacked plates and loading them into the dishwasher. When Kim didn’t comment, she took that as tacit acceptance, and they worked in companionable silence setting the kitchen back in order.
Squeezing the last plate into the dishwasher, Amelia felt an unfamiliar sense of accomplishment. “What’s next?”
Bringing the first of the pots to the sink, Kim replied, “I can finish these up.”
“Really, I can help.”
“These just need to soak until the dishwasher is free. I can manage. But thank you for your help with the rest.”
Oddly deflated, Amelia managed a smile. “Of course. My pleasure.”
“Mike’s wife, Ella, usually helps out with the meals, but since she’s visiting with her sister until her newest nephew is born, an extra set of hands would be a big help. If you’ve a mind, that is.”
Relief was immediate. “I’d love to.”
“Just be certain. Crack of dawn isn’t just a saying around here.”
When the alternative was sleeping in, knowing everyone else on the ranch was already up and hard at work, it was a no-brainer. “I’ll be there.” In the spirit of full disclosure, she added, “I’m not a very good cook, just so you know.”
Kim threw up a shoulder in a negligent shrug. “You’ll get better.”
That simple, easy vote of confidence warmed Amelia like a burst of sudden sunshine after a long, cold winter. She smiled. “Yes, I will.”
****
“You’d rather spend your evening out here with Lollipop than inside with that pretty little gal of yours?” Chaz leaned his shoulder into the open stall door and shook his head, a sardonic smile on his lips. “Boy, you must be tetched in the head.”
Not looking up from where he was running the body brush over the left flank of the horse he was grooming, Daryl replied, “She seemed to be enjoying herself just fine when I left,” then cursed himself for sounding jealous. He was glad Amelia hadn’t felt uncomfortable. She was used to dining with heads of state and royalty, not a bunch of rough-mannered cowboys. She’d handled the situation with aplomb.
He’d been the one itchy and out of sorts.
Daryl kept working with the brush, stopping every so often to clean it out with the currycomb in his other hand. It was methodical, mind-numbing work. After the discussion around the supper table, he needed to be not thinking for a little while. Brushing down one of the horses had always been one of his go-tos for that.
Undaunted, Chaz said, “I don’t know why you get all bent out of shape when people bring up your rodeo days. I’m the one whose record you broke. If anyone should be pissed, it should be me.”
“Since you’re the one who brought it up in the first place, you have no one to be pissed at but yourself.” Although, to be fair, it wasn’t the rodeo talk that had really gotten his temper worked up. It was the ranch talk. Which was stupid because it had been his decision to walk away from it in search of…something.
Which had left an opening for Chaska to step right in. He now held the right-hand man spot that Hank had expected his son to settle into. Only Daryl had never been one to settle. He’d joined the rodeo circuit young and worked it hard, all with one goal in mind: to earn enough prize money to buy a place of his own. Only his plans had blown up in his face. One too many injuries had cost him his dreams, but it was a misplaced sense of pride that had cost him his home, since coming back to the ranch after that had just seemed too much like admitting defeat. So he stayed away, eventually taking the security job down in Colorado.
His choice.
So why did he still resent Chaska his place here, then?
This was why he stayed the hell away. It was a lot easier to ignore the regrets his decisions stirred up inside him with a few hundred miles of distance between him and what he could never have.
“So how long have the two of you been together?”
“Not long.” The lie rolled off his tongue without any input from his brain. Chaska might have been a good twenty years older than Amelia, but the man had never let a little thing like age stand in the way of a good time. Young, old, pretty, plain, rich, poor, he bedded them all. The man’s only redeeming quality when it came to women was that he didn’t poach.
Finished with the left side, Daryl switched to the right, starting back at Lollipop’s neck. One of the oldest horses on the ranch, the poor gelding had been christened with the ridiculous name by Winnie when she turned six. Despite explaining to her that he was a boy horse, no amount of coaxing could persuade her to choose a more masculine name. So Lollipop he stayed, although everyone usually referred to him as Lolly to try and lessen the indignity.
Daryl stroked the short-bristled brush over the white mark on the gelding’s chest, grinning as he remembered how absolutely livid he’d been on Lolly’s behalf. But once his sister had her mind set on something, there was no changing it. Winnie had definitely gotten the Raintree stubborn gene.
But she hadn’t gotten the horse-crazy gene. Despite her desire to name the horses on the Circle R—something she was thankfully never allowed to do again—she showed very little interest in riding them. She could, of course. Their father would have allowed nothing less than total equine competence. But as she got older, she’d been less drawn to the horses and more to the men working them.
Not that a single one of them would dare look at her with anything but the utmost respect. Hank Raintree might be getting up in years and he might be more laid-back now than he’d been during his years as a Marine, but he could still be one scary bastard if you got on his wrong side. Anyone laying a finger on his baby girl would be annihilated. Which was probably why she was keeping the name of who had gotten her pregnant such a big…
Daryl’s hands froze mid-stroke. No. Even Chaz wouldn’t be that stupid. Would he?
His gaze snapped to the man who was still slumped in a lazy pose against the stall door, a stalk of hay tucked in the corner of his mouth, hat cocked back on his head. The very picture of a bored cowboy. It was a look that had gotten him into the panties of more buckle bunnies than any other rider on the circuit, whether he’d won his events that day or not. Even when Daryl had been riding the circuit years later, they still talked about the legendary Chaz, the man of steel, and they hadn’t been referring to his stamina on a horse.
Slowly, Chaz’s lazy posture changed in response to Daryl’s stare. His eyes narrowed and he straightened. “I have no intentions of chasing your woman. You should know me better than that.”
“It’s not Amelia I was wondering about.” Did Chaz look a little nervous? Maybe even a little guilty?
Or maybe just confused because that was how he sounded when he asked, “Then what the hell’s with the stare of death? Who…son of a bitch!” He tossed the hay to the ground, confusion giving way to anger. “Tell me you don’t think I had anything to do with getting your sister pregnant. Tell me you do not think I’m that much of a twisted prick.” He didn’t give Daryl a chance to reply. Stalking away then retracing his steps, he threw his arms up in the air. “Christ on a crutch, boy, that girl is like family to me. Taking her to bed would be like sleeping with my niece. And you can damn well believe that if I’d gotten any woman in the family way, I’d own up to my responsibilities. Damn. Damn!” He stalked away again, muttering under his breath.
The tension in the air had Lolly stamping his foot in agitation. Daryl reached out automatically to soothe him. Damn. He’d screwed that to fuck and back. If he’d taken more than two seconds to consider, he’d have known there was no way Chaska would have taken advantage of his sister. The man had been on the ranch for over ten years. He was right. He was like family.
And Daryl felt like a complete and total ass.
He found Chaska ten minutes later, sitting on the ground with his back up against the rear
of the bunkhouse, one knee up as he contemplated the horizon, another piece of hay crammed in the corner of his mouth. Wordlessly, Daryl sat down beside him and handed him one of the cold, long necked bottles he’d taken from the mess hall fridge. Chaz tipped it up and took a swallow.
“I was a jackass.” Daryl took a long swallow of his own beer. He didn’t drink it often, but the sharp bite of that first taste after so long was welcome.
“You were.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
They drank in silence for a few minutes, but Daryl could feel the angry tension seeping out of Chaz now that the smear to his honor had been cleared away. Daryl watched the setting sun turn the sky a brilliant flag of reds and pinks streaked with purple. He missed seeing that. He missed a lot of things.
Just not enough to come back.
“You want to know the other reason there’s no way I would have ever messed with little Miss Winona?” Chaz asked after the sun had completed its fall. “It’s because she’s a forever girl. And guys like me don’t mess with girls like that. Ever.”
“Well, somebody sure as hell did.”
“Have a little faith.” Chaz poked Daryl’s ribs with an elbow. “She’s a Raintree. She might not have the scary stare you inherited from your old man, but she sure got his brains. When that girl sets her sights on a goal, she doesn’t stop until she gets it. Just wait. Things’ll come out right in the end.”
Daryl wasn’t as certain of that, and waiting wasn’t an option. Not when Winnie wasn’t going to be able to hide her condition under baggy clothing much longer.
“You know who else is a forever girl?” Chaz asked. “Little Miss Amy.”
“Maybe.” Daryl watched the darkening sky as he finished the last of his beer, ignoring the small nip of jealousy he felt at the easy familiarity of the nickname he’d never heard used before, but which suited her. “But she’s definitely not my forever.” The mere thought was laughable.