Josie leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands clasped loosely in front of her. “Mom, there’s oil here. I can feel it in my bones.”
Bitsy released an aggravated breath. “Not that again!” Bitsy’s delicate lips pursed. “I declare I’m going to wring your father’s neck for encouraging you all these years!”
Josie pushed away from the table and began to pace, restlessness overtaking her once again. She flattened her hands on the back of her waist and stared out the window at the drilling rig in the distance. “Big Jim never encouraged me to be a wildcatter, Mom. You know that,” Josie reminded tiredly.
Her mother stomped nearer, the spike heels of her designer shoes making a staccato sound across the mud-tracked linoleum floor. Bitsy looked askance at the dirty dishes Josie had left in the sink that morning. Josie thought about explaining that she didn’t have servants here to help her as her mother did in Dallas—nor did she want any—it had been raining that morning, and there had been trouble on the rig when she had rushed out to help, and she’d been gone all day and would have cleaned up that evening in any case. But it didn’t seem to matter. She didn’t have to hear a word to know Bitsy disapproved of the path she had chosen.
“But he did challenge you to figure out where oil was located and where it wasn’t,” Bitsy pointed out.
Josie threw up her hands in exasperation. “It was a game we played when I was a kid!” Scowling, she picked up the roll of paper towels and the spray bottle of kitchen cleaner and went to work on the muddy floor. “He did it to keep me occupied and interested in what was going on, whenever I was with him.” And she’d had a blast doing it!
Bitsy shook her head as Josie squirted cleaner on all the footprints. “I knew nothing good could come of Jim dragging you to all those drilling sites,” Bitsy fumed.
Josie tore off squares of paper towels and put them over the cleaner-drenched spots. “Mom, I know you don’t like it, but wildcatting is what I was born to do.”
“Josie, be reasonable. Think of your future!”
“I am!” Josie used the sole of her boots to drag the paper towels across the floor, soaking up mud and cleaner all the while. “I’m trying to build a future for myself.”
Bitsy stepped back to clear the way for Josie to slide-and-clean the rest of the floor. “Your future is the foundation.”
“No, Mom,” Josie sprayed cleaner on the spots she had missed, “the foundation is your thing, and I’m happy it is. But it’s not mine,” Josie said gently. She tore off more towels.
Bitsy scowled as she watched Josie toss down more paper toweling. “Then find something else,” she instructed emotionally.
“I have.”
“Something ladylike.”
“I don’t want to do something ladylike.” Her bootclad feet on separate towels, Josie skated her way across the floor, awkwardly slip-sliding and cleaning as she went. “I am sick to death of doing ladylike things.”
“Josie, for heaven’s sake!” Bitsy finally blew up. “Who in their right mind is going to want to marry a lady roughneck, never mind even date one?”
“I will.”
Josie and Bitsy turned in unison. Wade was framed in the doorway. He had Josie’s battered leather shoulder bag in his hands. He tipped the brim of his hat at them both. “Didn’t mean to overhear or interrupt, ladies, but you forgot this.”
Bitsy blinked. Wade touched the brim of his hat once again. “Wade McCabe, ma’am. At your service.”
BITSY SCOWLED and propped her beringed hands on her hips. “Don’t tell me you’re encouraging my daughter, too?” she remarked icily.
Wade stepped inside. He handed Josie her bag— which she set on the table—then hunkered down beside her to help her retrieve the soggy paper towels scattered across the floor. “As it happens,” Wade drawled, pausing to toss the first of a dozen paper towels into the trash, “having seen Josie in action around the site, yeah, you might say I’m encouraging her. And with good reason.” Wade looked Bitsy square in the eye. “She really knows her stuff. And if you want my opinion,” Wade and Josie picked up the rest of the grungy towels, “Josie ought to be respected for that, instead of put down.” Finished, Wade stood and gave Josie a hand up.
Bitsy continued to study Wade for a long silent moment, cataloguing his six-foot-five, two-hundred-twenty-pound frame. Wordlessly she assessed the superb fit and quality of his camel-colored Western sport coat, light blue Western shirt, jeans and handtooled Western boots. Took in the rumpled layers of his ash brown hair, his ruggedly handsome features and dark brown eyes, his straight blade nose and sensually chiseled lips.
And when all that met her exceedingly high standards, as Josie could see it did, Bitsy began to concentrate on what was in Wade McCabe’s heart and soul and eyes. “No one is going to marry her, Mr. McCabe, if she continues in this vein,” Bitsy continued in her soft, worried voice.
Josie tensed, wondering what Wade would say to that. She didn’t have to wait long to find out. He took off his hat, dropped it on the table, shrugged out of his sport coat and hung that over the back of a chair. Looking much more at home, he reached out and laced an arm around Josie’s waist and reeled her in to his side.
“Any man worth marrying would accept Josie’s choice of career, no matter what it is,” Wade returned bluntly. He turned to Josie and regarded her lovingly. “I wouldn’t expect or want you to settle for anything less. And frankly, neither should your loved ones.”
The warmth and affection in his eyes made Josie’s knees go weak.
“Well.” Bitsy splayed a hand over her heart. “You certainly have no trouble speaking your mind, do you, Mr. McCabe?”
“I’m just defending my...friend. No disrespect meant,” Wade told Bitsy courteously, reaching past Josie to shake Bitsy’s hand.
“None taken,” Bitsy murmured back, looking intrigued—and yes, pleased—by Josie’s choice of companion. It was all Josie could do not to groan. The last thing she wanted was Bitsy championing her relationship with Wade. She didn’t want Bitsy—or Big Jim—involved in her personal life at all.
Trying her best to prevent any more tension, Josie cut in politely. “Mom, maybe this isn’t the best time to discuss private family matters.” Especially financial ones, she thought nervously, her mind going back to her trust fund.
Bitsy glanced at her watch, frowned as she noted the time. Already reaching for her designer handbag and car keys, she turned back to Josie. “Don’t think for one minute that we’re finished talking about this, because we are not. But unfortunately I’ve got a previous engagement.”
Bitsy said a brief goodbye and rushed out.
Silence fell.
As soon as Bitsy’s Cadillac drove off, Josie let out a long, relieved breath. Aware Wade still had his hand locked around her waist, Josie thought about how good it had felt to allow him to come to her rescue like that. “Thanks.” Josie’s hands were trembling. She felt like bursting into tears. She went to get herself a glass of water. She leaned against the sink and took a thirsty gulp. “I don’t know why I let her get to me like that.”
“If you want to talk about it,” Wade said gently, “I’d be more than happy to listen.”
As she looked at the compassion in Wade’s eyes, Josie realized she needed to unburden herself. She got glasses of ice water for them both, took his hand and led him over to the sofa, where she settled in the curve of his arm. “I don’t know any of the details of how my parents met or ever got together because both steadfastly refuse to talk about it, except to say they had a very intense, very passionate fling that led to her getting pregnant. But I do know my parents never should have married.” Josie paused and shook her head.
“My dad was a roughneck from the wrong side of the tracks whose only real love is wildcatting. My mother was from the right side of the tracks and she has great social aspirations—not just for herself but for me, too.”
Pain colored Josie’s low voice as she continued to remember, “Neither my mom nor
my dad ever lived up to each other’s expectations. She wasn’t the wife he needed. He wasn’t the husband she needed. So they cut each other out of their lives—literally—before I was even born, separating while my mother was still pregnant with me and divorcing a suitable time after.”
Wade lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it tenderly. “That must have been rough. Although, under the circumstances, maybe it was a good thing they did end their marriage.”
“You’re right.” Josie rested the back of her head on Wade’s shoulder. She had never felt this safe or secure. “Like oil and water, the two of them will never mix. They’ve both told me many times that passion alone is not enough to sustain a marriage. You have to have similar views, backgrounds, aspirations if you want to have a relationship that lasts a lifetime.”
“I’m not sure I agree about that.” Wade turned slightly to face her, the hardness of his thigh pressing up against hers. He traced a lazy pattern on her knee. “What is it they say about opposites attracting?” he teased.
Josie’s lips took on a rueful curve. Once again, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She only knew she didn’t want to live through the kind of tempestuous, unhappy relationship her parents had forged for themselves. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d had the kind of childhood I had,” she pointed out sagely.
Wade rubbed her palm between the two of his. “Rough?”
“And then some.” For a moment Josie luxuriated in the feel of his warm, callused hands massaging her skin. She bit her lip. “I knew they both loved me. But I’ve never stopped feeling torn between the two.”
Josie paused and looked deep into Wade’s eyes. “The truth is they’re warring factions even now. My mother wants me to wear beautiful clothing and look and act like a proper Southern lady at all times. She also wants me to have a high-powered white-collar career. My father wants me to forget that world and be an exceedingly practical woman who spends the majority of her time supporting her husband’s career.”
Wade made a face. “I can see where that would have been confusing when you were younger,” he said dryly.
“The worst part is I don’t think either of them are willing to accept me or see me for who I am. Even now.” Feeling tears of frustration and hurt fill her eyes, Josie shrugged and willed the tears not to fall. “Not that I’ve got it all figured out quite yet,” she confessed thickly. “If I had, I wouldn’t be opting for a career and life-style change at this point in my life.”
Wade grinned as he continued rubbing Josie’s hand, until the rest of her felt as relaxed as her palm. “There’s plenty of time for you and me both to figure out what we want to do with all aspects of our lives.”
That was true, Josie thought.
He paused and studied her face. “Something else is still bothering you,” he guessed.
Josie shrugged. “You saw the way my mother reacted just now. My dad’s been every bit as unsupportive. I’m afraid if I’m not the daughter both of them need, want and expect, that they will stop loving me, the same way they stopped loving each other years ago.”
“Hey,” Wade said hurriedly. “That’s not going to happen.” He took her all the way into his arms. against
Josie hitched in a breath even as she relaxed against him. She looked up into his face. “How do you know?”
WADE STROKED A HAND through the silk of Josie’s hair. He loved the way she felt all snuggled up beside him. “Because I know you,” he told her gently, wanting more than anything to reassure her. “And I know what a special woman you are. Your parents would have to be crazy not to want you in their lives. They might be demanding, but they’re not crazy.” Wade turned her, so her back was to him. He put both hands on her shoulders and massaged them gently. “Besides—” he leaned forward and kissed the top of her head “—no one ever said you couldn’t wear a lot of different hats and look good in them all.”
Josie glanced at him over her shoulder. She furrowed her brow.
“What do you mean?”
“You can be a tomboy slash wildcatter one day, a femme fatale slash city girl the next. And look terrific and be perfectly happy in both roles.” As Wade continued massaging her shoulders, he felt some of the tension leave her.
Josie sighed happily and shut her eyes. She let her head fall back. “You’re good for my ego, you know that?”
Wade smiled. There was so much more he could do for her. “I hope I’m good for a lot more than that.”
At the sexual undertone in his voice, Josie turned. “Wade...” she chided sternly. But there was a new and ardent excitement glimmering in her azure-blue eyes.
“I drove over to the drilling rig to get an update while you were talking to your mom. The drill-stem test won’t be completed for another two hours. There’s nothing for you to do over there except wait and pace, so Gus, Ernie and Dieter told you to stay put. They’ll call you when the test results are in, and you can go over then. Meantime—” Wade rolled to his feet. He offered Josie a hand and helped her up.
Color flooded her cheeks as she began to see where this was headed. Josie’s mouth opened in surprise. “You’re not suggesting,” she said in a low, shocked voice.
“Yes, Josie, I am.” Wade tunneled both hands through her hair and bent to kiss her tenderly. He knew she was used to thinking in terms of work first. So was he. But there were times when it was necessary to put work aside. This was one of them. “I want some time with you, too. And you can be as much a proper Southern lady in my arms as you want,” he teased huskily as he swept her up into his arms, carried her into the bedroom at the rear of her trailer and set her down beside the bed. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Josie’s legs trembled as much as the rest of her. She gave him an arch look and stepped back as much as his hands would allow. “I never said I wanted to be a proper Southern lady,” she reminded coolly, tossing her head and stalking from him.
Amused by her display of temper, Wade hooked a hand in the waistband of her jeans and hauled her back to him. Josie was still a mystery to him in so many ways. But if he had his way she wouldn’t be for much longer. “Then what do you want to be?” he demanded huskily. Hands gently caressing her shoulders, he turned her around to face him.
Josie sighed wistfully and looked up at him as if the answer to that was an easy one. “The kind of woman who doesn’t worry as much about how she looks or what she wears, so much as what is in her heart.” Josie’s lips curved. “The kind of woman who’s as at home on a drilling rig as she is at some fancy party. The kind who doesn’t have to apologize about wearing jeans and boots 99 percent of the time.”
Wade looked down at her fondly. Sliding both hands through her hair, he tilted her face up to his. As he studied her, his heart filled with tenderness and warmth. “Still a tomboy at heart, hmm?” he teased, loving the way she looked, with color in her cheeks and fire in her eyes.
Josie’s breath caught in her chest, lifting the soft swell of her breasts. “And I always will be,” Josie admitted recklessly as her fingers traced provocative patterns on the fabric of his shirt. “So you’re going to have to give up on teaching me how to be a lady, Wade. And you’re going to have to give up wishing I were free of flaws, because I’m just not,” she finished ruefully, her arms tightening around him, strengthening, even as every bone in her body seemed to melt.
His need for her increasing, Wade tangled his fingers in her hair and touched his lips to hers. Gently and evocatively at first, then slowly and lingeringly. Until the tension between them began to abate, replaced by something infinitely sweeter and harder to curtail. Eyes still locked playfully with hers, he drew back. As always, Josie was much harder on herself than he thought she should be. And he wished—hoped—it would stop. “That’s fine,” he murmured teasingly as he gently tugged at a lock of her hair. Lacing his arms about her waist, he sat on the bed and shifted her closer, so she was standing between the open vee of his legs, the outside of her thighs pressed against the inside of his.
“As long as I can teach you other things.”
He looked up at her and felt himself lost in her, in love with her. Not just for today, but for all time. And yet, no matter how reckless and headstrong she was, no matter how daring or passionate, she was still the innocent in so many ways. And for that he had to be careful. Not to push too hard or too fast. Not to overwhelm her with confessions of his feelings for her. Confessions she could conclude were meant only to get her into bed.
No, the words would come—later—when she knew him well enough to trust that everything he said was true. And enduring. For now, he would show her how he felt. With touch and tenderness and need.
Josie’s breath caught again as his hands skimmed down her body, his fingers brushing down the sides of her breasts, moving across her tummy, his palms cupping her waist, her hips. her thighs, before beginning the foray up, stroking and kneading, until the yearning ache grew and spread inside her. Her arms were wreathed around his shoulders, her heart pounding, as he began to unbuckle her belt and unzip her fly. Trying not to let him know how much he was affecting her, trying not to let him know how very much she loved him, for fear he’d think her even more reckless and impulsive when it came to getting what she wanted than she was, she lifted a dissenting brow. “You’re never going to get over this got-to-improve-my-woman kick, are you?” she drawled.
Wildcat Cowboy (The McCabes of Texas #2) Page 15