His clothes. Covering her curves.
Slipping the straps from his shoulders, he registered the rest of the changes. The cabin felt…cozy. Something cooking smelled great. The fire crackled welcome from the hearth, the room was warm. The woman would be warm.
Then Davey’s eyes opened, wide and blue and smiling. Mitch tried to signal him to stay quiet and still so she could sleep, but the warning came too late. Davey sat up.
With one hand above her head, Perrie arched like a cat, the sweatshirt sliding up to reveal more of her hips, more of the sweet curve of that bottom.
“Mitch!” Davey called out.
And the moment vanished. Perrie stiffened and sat up, turning to face him, her eyes wary. Davey scrambled to the floor and raced over to throw his arms around Mitch’s waist.
Mitch couldn’t help caressing the soft hair. Over the child’s head, he and Perrie exchanged looks.
Hers was pure mother tigress. Don’t you hurt my child.
His was more rebellious than it should have been. He had no business caring about someone else’s boy. But he couldn’t seem to quit.
Davey crowed. “Look, Mom, it’s my bag. Yours, too.” Then he registered the snow dusting Mitch’s boots. “Is it snowing?”
“It’s starting.”
“Oh, boy! Wanna go make snow angels? We could have a snowball fight, too.” One set of blue eyes danced with glee. The other set barked out warning.
“Maybe later, sport. Right now, let’s get your stuff inside.”
“You carried more?”
Mitch opened the door and pulled the other two bags inside.
“My toys! Wow, Mitch, you’re really strong—isn’t he, Mom? Look at all he carried up here! Thanks, Mitch—wanna play with these?”
“Maybe in a little while.” The walls closed in. He almost turned and went back outside. This felt too good. Too much like—
Home.
Don’t be ridiculous. This is all an illusion. They’ll be gone soon.
Very soon, if he had anything to say about it.
Davey immersed himself in greeting his toys like old friends he hadn’t seen in years. Mitch resisted the urge to go back outside, busying himself removing his boots and coat, padding over to the fire in his sock feet, ducking past the line of laundry.
Perrie approached but stayed on the other side of the line, speaking softly. “Thank you. It’s very kind of you to do this. I didn’t mean for you to carry so much.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard.”
“Is it getting bad outside?”
“Not yet, but it will be.”
“I haven’t spent much time up here except in the summers. Will it last long?”
“I haven’t spent much time up here, either. I’m usually off guiding right now. But the first snow is unpredictable. Could come and go quick.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to keep Davey quiet and out of your way.”
“Davey is not a problem.” She was another matter.
She ducked her head, and golden hair spilled over her shoulder. He’d been right—it fell to her waist, a mass of honeyed silk. It was only too easy to imagine it spilling over her breasts, brushing his body. A golden curtain, sealing them off from the world.
He cursed silently and turned to face the fire.
Her voice was soft and hesitant. “I made a stew. I thought I’d do cornbread to go with it. Are you hungry?”
Ravenous. But they weren’t talking about the same hunger.
Remember Cy. Remember what she did.
He whirled around. “Why wouldn’t you take my call?”
Her eyes widened. “What call?”
“Don’t play Miss Innocent. I called you when Cy was so sick I knew it was almost the end. You wouldn’t even come to the phone.”
“When was that?”
Fury shot through him. “You don’t even remember?” He brushed past her hesitation. “In March. The butler or some damn thing like that answered the phone.”
“Did you tell him who you were?” She got an odd look in her eyes, one he couldn’t decipher.
“I didn’t think it was anyone else’s business. I told him it was an urgent family matter.”
“What did he say?”
“He very politely told me that Miss Perrie had no family and didn’t like strangers calling her. He told me not to call again and hung up.”
Perrie’s glance darted everywhere but at him. “I never knew.”
He snorted. “Or didn’t care.”
“I wasn’t there then.”
“Where were you?”
“Traveling.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Lying. He’d almost swear it.
For a second, he wanted to press her, to make her admit that she hadn’t cared enough to keep up with the grandfather who had loved her.
But it wouldn’t change anything. Cy would still be dead. Knowing wouldn’t change how it had happened. He needed to get away from her, get a grip on his temper.
“I’ll be—” Why was he explaining anything to her? “Never mind.” Shaking his head, Mitch ducked under the line again and brushed past her, headed toward his bedroom.
“Mitch?”
He stopped in the doorway but didn’t look back.
“Would you…” Her voice trembled slightly. “Shall I start the cornbread?”
He snorted and shook his head. “I can take care of myself, Miss Perrie. Don’t dirty those lily-white hands on my account.”
He heard the small intake of her breath and knew a flicker of shame. But why?
He knew why. Because even if she was lying, she did care about Cy. He could hear it in her voice.
He wanted answers, but answers wouldn’t undo anything.
It wasn’t his business, anyway. The storm wouldn’t last forever. This early in the fall, there would be a break between systems. And she was getting stronger every day.
Soon, she would be gone. Or he would.
It couldn’t come a moment too soon.
Chapter Six
Perrie stared out the window, watching the world turn white. In the background, she faintly heard the sounds of Davey playing, but her mind whirled like the snowflakes that seemed to be coming more sideways than down in the ever-present Wyoming wind.
She could still see the accusation in Mitch’s eyes, and it hurt. Lying wasn’t in her nature, but she couldn’t talk to him about Simon.
Could she?
What would happen if she did? Would this man, so dedicated to his solitude, want her to leave and take the threat away from his refuge?
Her sense of the man who was so careful with her child was that he might not. He was strong. Hard. But curiously gentle with a boy who had not known the love of a father.
Perrie leaned her head against the cold glass, hoping to cool the boiling confusion in her brain.
Wasn’t it true that, for the very reason of his kindness to Davey, she owed it to Mitch not to embroil him in the disaster her life had become?
And what about trust? He didn’t trust her. Or like her.
But he might desire her. Those weren’t gentle thoughts she sensed when his eyes raked her—and darkened.
Was she brave enough to risk exploring the attraction? Hadn’t she had enough of darkness, of complicated men? Mitch didn’t even know what his own brother looked like. How had that happened? Why would she rely upon a man who didn’t keep in touch with his own family?
She couldn’t. It was that simple. She could play roulette with her own life, but she couldn’t take risks with Davey. He was all that was important. She’d made a mess of her life, but she wouldn’t allow harm to come to him. Mitch wouldn’t harm him, she was sure of that. But she had no way at all to assure herself that he would welcome being embroiled in the tangle she’d made of her life with Simon.
You made your bed, Perrie. Now sleep in it. Alone.
For just a moment, she allowed he
r thoughts rein…set herself free to imagine yielding to the temptation Mitch presented. Not just to sink into the comfort of his strength, but to give in to the draw of the smoldering sensuality he exuded with every breath.
He was a hard man, but beneath that shell, she sensed more, something explosive. Deep within him, something called, male to female, to something in her. She couldn’t help wondering about how those strong, lean fingers would feel on her body, and the very wondering shocked her. Tantalized her. Never in her life had Perrie felt the pull of a man the way Mitch exerted a steady draw on her. Like the moon called to the tides, something deep within him made her want to respond.
But she was a mother first. She could not afford impulse.
Would not.
With effort, Perrie drew away from her fascination with the world outside the window and turned to her son.
“Davey?”
Davey looked up from his intense concentration on the figures he’d arranged on the rug.
“The ground is covered now. Want to go outside for a few minutes before we eat?”
His eyes glistened. “Yeah!”
“Okay. We have to bundle up like we would in Boston. There’s not a lot of snow yet, but the wind is much higher.”
His joy brightened her own heart.
Concentrate on Davey. It’s your only concern.
Davey raced out of the room, and Perrie followed behind him.
Mitch had heard them dressing, heard Davey’s excitement and Perrie’s whispered caution. But he had stayed in his bedroom, stretched out on his bed and staring at the ceiling.
Don’t get involved. Caring brings pain.
Life had hammered that lesson into his skull with an emphasis he couldn’t forget. He’d cared too much, felt too much. Lost control of his emotions—and a whole family had paid.
Where was Boone now? Davey’s question haunted him. Was Boone his size? Two years younger, his brother had been almost his height the last time Mitch had seen him, when Boone was fourteen and Mitch two years older. Their father was a tall man, broad in the shoulders. Mitch had once thought Sam Gallagher the strongest man in the world.
Thoughts of his father stirred to life feelings that Mitch had thought he’d killed off years ago. The fury in Sam’s face when Mitch had come home drunk for the umpteenth time. The worry in his mother’s eyes. Her attempts to calm both him and Sam down.
To no avail.
Get out of this house and don’t ever come back. You’re no son of mine. You’re throwing your life away—for what? You make me sick.
Mitch sat up quickly, rubbing both hands over his face as if to scrub away what had happened next. If only he’d kept his temper… If only his mother hadn’t followed him…
If only… Two more useless words did not exist in the language.
His mother was dead. It was his fault. He couldn’t even blame Sam for banishing him forever, after that night.
He rose to pace the small room. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? The only safe path was not to feel…anything. He’d begun to feel too much lately.
It had to stop.
He had to be careful, for the child’s sake. Davey gave his affection so easily, like it was as natural as breathing. If he had a son of his own, he’d want him to be just like Davey.
But he would never have a son. He would live—and die—alone.
And it was best, that way.
Just ease away, he thought. Pull back slowly. Don’t get in any deeper. The boy was devoted to his mother, and he had latched onto Mitch when he was the only adult awake, that was all. Just that simple.
And if it bothered Mitch to lose the boy’s growing devotion, well, he’d get over it. He’d gotten over worse.
Mitch left his room, headed for the coffee pot. He poured a cup and lifted the lid of the stewpot on the back of the stove.
Heaven. His mouth watered at the scent. Then he looked in the wood box and saw that she knew how to handle a cook fire. She might be a pampered socialite forced into a few days of primitive living, but she obviously remembered what Cy had taught her.
And it smelled like she was a damn good cook. Mitch couldn’t remember the last time someone else had cooked for him.
Just then, a shriek from outside drew him toward the window. Holding the full mug in his hand, Mitch watched them.
And smiled.
Davey pelted his mother with a small, mushy snowball that fell apart even before impact. Then he danced around, his arms lifted high in glee.
Perrie stood there, bundled in her own clothes, golden hair braided again, smiling like a teenage girl with no worries. He hadn’t realized, until he saw her now with all the caution smoothed from her face, just how tense she’d been since he’d met her. Around him, she was on edge. Even with Davey, she was always watchful, ever cognizant that she was a mother.
His mother had been like that. Good to him, good as any angel could have been. But firm. And always vigilant, wanting him safe.
Mitch closed his eyes, thinking about how he’d repaid her.
Don’t let your anger win, Mitch, she’d said as she lay dying in his arms. He could still feel the cold trickle of the rain down his neck after he’d removed his hat to shield her. Could still see the trails of red washing out to pink on the gravel beside the road.
And even then, her only concern had been for him and for the others she’d loved. Poor Mitch. Take care of Boone and Sam for me. I love you all.
Mitch watched Davey drop to the snow and fan his arms and legs, making a snow angel though the ground only held perhaps two inches of snow so far.
Perrie smiled and clapped, then answered Davey’s pleas and laid down beside him, making her own snow angel.
The whole scene blurred as Mitch viewed it through the eyes of a boy who’d been loved…of a young man who’d laid love to waste.
He turned away from the window. He was older now. He’d learned to live without love a long time ago.
Perrie entered the living room with trepidation. With Davey now asleep, she was effectively alone with the glowering giant. Her bones ached with weariness, but she wasn’t sleepy yet. Instead of sitting in the dark in the bedroom, she would brave the living room where Mitch sat before the fire.
He glanced up as she entered, then quickly back to the piece of wood he was carving. “Davey’s asleep?”
“Finally.” She sank down on one corner of the sofa. The clothes had dried and been taken down before they’d eaten. She wished for the barrier between them again.
“It was a good meal. Thanks.”
“Thank you for cleaning up.” Such polite strangers, both of them.
He shrugged. “Least I could do.”
“Not hardly. Not after you hiked all that way to get our things.”
He stared into the fire for long moments. “Cy taught you how to cook cornbread in the fireplace?”
She smiled, remembering. “The first time, I burned it to a crisp. Grandpa told me to rake some coals onto the hearth and set the pan there instead of on the fire, but I was in a hurry and thought the bread would cook faster with the coals where they were.” She laughed faintly. “It did. Just not edibly.”
A tiny smile quirked his lips. “My grandfather taught me to cook over a campfire. I’ve had my share of screwups.”
“Was that who taught you to hunt? Your grandfather?” She held her breath, wondering if he’d answer.
The knife scraped against wood for a long time before he answered. “Yeah. He taught me to fish when I was about Davey’s size.”
“Did you always like it?”
He nodded. “A lot more than ranch work.”
So he’d grown up on a ranch. She waited, hoping he’d tell her more, but he didn’t.
She needed to thank him for what he’d done. “Davey told me what you said about thanking his fish.”
She saw his shoulders stiffen and rushed to explain. “Thank you for not making him feel foolish that he’s tender-hearted about animals. His father…�
�� How to explain without telling too much? “His father wasn’t so thoughtful.”
The dark head turned her direction. “I wasn’t so tough myself at his age. I liked it, but I had my squeamish moments. I don’t trust anyone who kills without remorse.” Brown eyes softened. “What did his father say?”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t about hunting or fishing. When Davey was three, his father thought he should try the high diving board.” Anger rose again, tightening her throat. “He called Davey a coward because he was afraid.”
Mitch swore under his breath. “His father was a fool. That boy has the heart of a lion. He was ready to take me on to protect you.”
Perrie met his gaze, seeing the fierce pride glow. Pride. For her son.
Why couldn’t Simon have been like that?
Useless thoughts. “He’s got his stubborn streak, but he has a good heart.” She smiled. “Protecting me, huh? How sweet.”
“Not a lot of five-year-olds would make their way through an unfamiliar forest to get help. He was scared to death of me, but he didn’t give an inch. Stood over you like a guard dog.” Mitch shook his head once. “Hell of a kid.”
The way he looked at her, the questions in his eyes, made her wish she could explain their lives.
But as she searched for answers, he saved her the dilemma, rising to his feet. “Well, I’m turning in. It’s been a long day.”
“Mitch…” She had to get this one thing straight. “Davey’s getting so attached to you. I…” How did she say this?
Again, he saved her the trouble.
“It won’t last. He just latched onto me because you were sick. Once the storm has let up, I’ll make myself scarce until you’re well enough to go.”
But she was watching him as he said it, and despite his words, she could see a shadow cross his face.
For a moment, she thought she saw hunger in those dark eyes.
The hunger of a man too long alone.
She’d never met a man more solitary in her life. But hearing the fondness in his voice when he spoke of his grandfather…seeing his eyes when he spoke of her son…Perrie had to wonder, yet again, what had made this man close himself off from love.
Texas Heroes: Volume 1 Page 25