by Francis Ray
“I’ll go look at the room, then finish unloading the Jeep.” Smiling, Raven headed for the stairs. She wondered if Rooster was trying to protect her reputation or Duncan’s. He didn’t have to worry about her. She was here to do a job.
Her hand on the banister, she ran up the stairs. At the top, she looked at the fine layer of dirt on her palm and shook her head. Duncan didn’t appear the slovenly type.
The yards were well maintained, the area around the house and barn well kept; the furnishings appeared to have been cared for. His shirt and jeans had been pressed and clean, and according to Rooster, Duncan kept his room clean. He’d want a clean house as well. With Rooster, it wasn’t happening. From the way Rooster kept squinting, she wondered if perhaps his eyesight wasn’t the best. Not her problem.
Opening the door to her bedroom, Raven was pleased to see a small desk and a phone jack for her computer. Since she’d slept on the ground on other digs, she was happy to see a full bed with a nightstand and double dresser.
Crossing the pine floor, she opened the door to what she hoped was a bathroom. She grinned on seeing the claw-foot tub.
At the basin, she turned on the water to wash her hands. The soap smelled like a mixture of spring flowers. If she didn’t miss her guess, this was probably the room Duncan’s sister, Faith, used when she visited.
She had mentioned to Raven that she would probably stay in her room. According to Faith, there were enough bedrooms for his brother and new wife and his parents—although since they were divorced they never visited at the same time.
Raven went back downstairs to the Jeep and saw Rooster trying to wrestle the largest and heaviest piece of her luggage out of the back. “That one stays,” she said quickly, joining him. “If you’ll get the rest of the groceries, I’ll get my laptop.”
Looking a bit relieved, he picked up two bags of groceries. “You bought a lot of food. You’re planning to eat with the boss, aren’t you?”
Not if I can help it. “I don’t want to impose.”
“You won’t be. How would it look if we didn’t take care of you? You’re a friend of his in-law, ain’t you?”
“Yes.”
Rooster gave a quick nod of his head. “Then you eat with the boss.” Turning as if the matter was settled, he started for the stone steps. “Beef stew tonight with my special corn bread.”
“I can hardly wait,” she mumbled, and followed him into the house.
Chapter 2
Duncan was bone tired, dirty, and hungry. He wanted a hot shower, a good meal, and no problems to come up while he worked on the ranch accounts that were a month behind. Coming out of the barn and seeing Raven’s Jeep, he accepted he was fated to get only the first one.
He’d tried to put her out of his mind as he herded stubborn strays back onto his property for most of the day, then repaired the downed wire fence, but it had proven impossible. She kept appearing in his mind, beckoning, her smile promising the fulfillment of every fantasy he tried so hard to keep at bay.
He’d tried to convince himself he wanted her to stay because he hadn’t wanted Mrs. Grayson to think badly of him. Not only was she an in-law; she also was the mother of his brother Cameron’s best friend, Brandon, and lately she seemed to be developing a close friendship with his mother.
At Cameron’s wedding in November Duncan had caught the women with their heads together more than once. Oddly, a couple of times they had been looking at him. With the tense situation between his mother and father, Duncan’s mother needed friends.
His mother had surprised everyone by divorcing his father and remarrying in less than a year. Then she surprised them all again when she divorced that man as well. Neither Duncan, Cameron, nor Faith had suspected the reason until Cameron figured out their mother still loved their father and wanted another chance.
Although Duncan’s father still loved her, he wanted no part of reconciliation. Trying to keep from being hurt again, he acted as if he didn’t want his ex-wife around. At Cameron’s wedding his father had been polite to her but distant. Duncan was afraid that only a miracle would get them back together. The McBride curse was at it again.
For eight generations, the McBride men had been able to make money but not make a relationship work. That seemed to have changed with Faith’s birth—the first girl in generations. She had beaten the curse, as did Cameron. Both were happily married. Duncan and his father weren’t as fortunate.
Opening the back door off the kitchen, Duncan stopped short at seeing Raven setting the table. Normally, place mats and a complete set of flatware weren’t used unless his mother or Faith was there.
With the overhead light shining on Raven and her long black hair hanging free over her slim shoulder, she looked exotically beautiful in a simple white blouse and somehow right, a gift to a man after a hard day—a hot meal and a hotter body.
Despite Duncan’s best attempt, his unruly body’s swift reaction annoyed the hell out of him. The fit of his jeans became tighter. He was too tired for this sort of nonsense.
She glanced up, pausing, gazing at him, her head tilting to one side again as if she was trying to figure out how to soften him up. She was wasting her time. His ex-wife had taught him a lesson he’d never forget. She’d used her body and her face to get what she wanted from men. A wedding ring hadn’t stopped her. No woman would ever make a fool of him again.
“Good evening,” he greeted Raven. There was no sense in being rude.
She straightened, shoving the heavy, lustrous mass of straight hair behind her ear and over her shoulder. “Duncan.” Her gaze ran lightly over him. “Busy day?”
“Yeah.” He was dirty from the tips of his boots to the top of his Stetson. If she was that fastidious, she should have stayed in Santa Fe. He turned away from her to see Rooster looking from him to Raven, a frown on his bearded face. “I’m going up and take a shower.”
“Well, don’t take too long. I was just about to finish with this last batch of hot-water corn bread.” Using the metal spatula, Roster flipped a lumpy shape in a black iron skillet. They were almost the same color.
Duncan inwardly groaned. The corn bread on a plate on the counter looked about as palatable as the skillet that it was cooked in. Rooster didn’t seem to notice the burnt food. Duncan thought it was probably due to all the years Rooster had eaten on the range.
“Well, hurry up. You don’t want to keep your guest waiting.” Rooster scooped up the last corn bread and placed it on the plate.
Duncan’s gaze snapped to Raven, who wore a pained expression on her face as Rooster took the top off a pot and stirred. “You don’t have to wait on me.”
Her head snapped around. “No. Wouldn’t dream of not waiting.”
She wasn’t any more anxious to eat Rooster’s cooking than Duncan was. He didn’t want to hurt the man who’d been on the ranch when Duncan had bought it ten years ago, a man he respected and who had taught him so much, but he wondered about Raven’s reason. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Take your time,” Raven murmured, slowly sinking down onto one of the ladder-back chairs at the long table.
Duncan continued through the kitchen. He was two steps into the great room when he smelled lemon. His steps slowed, he sniffed. He hadn’t smelled the scent of wax since his housekeeper left two weeks ago to help her daughter and son-in-law with their new baby. Duncan had feared he’d never smell it again.
Walking over to a table by the stairs, he ran one finger over the round mahogany surface. Not even a speck of dust came away. He looked back toward the kitchen. While it remained in its usual shambles since Rooster had decided to “save” Duncan, the great room was clean. There was only one explanation. Raven. But why would she clean his house when they had gotten off to such a bad start?
He wasn’t going to try to figure it out now; he had too many other important things to contend with. Like what had caused the cattle to spook and break through the fence. He just hoped it wasn’t a wolf or a mountain li
on. Both would play havoc with his livestock. Last year he’d lost several calves to predators.
And his hands were tied. Gray wolves were protected as an endangered species and the mountain lion was out of season for hunting unless it was an imminent threat to humans. Although several ranchers in the area didn’t agree with him, Duncan had never liked killing for killing’s sake. The animals were on the land long before man.
He took the stairs two at a time and was unintentionally caught by the gleam of polished wood where that morning had been dust. Perhaps Raven had a thing about being clean.
In his room, he sat on the wooden bench at the foot of his bed and removed his boots. If Raven hadn’t been there, he would have taken his clothes off in the mudroom and showered in the half bath he’d installed shortly after he’d gotten married.
One boot hit the floor with a loud plop. At least one good thing had come out of the worst fiasco of his life.
Shelley had been beautiful and fun, at least until they’d arrived back on the Double D after their honeymoon. Nothing seemed to please her, least of all his leaving so early in the morning to work and then coming home late in the evening, sweaty and dirty. He fully expected her to grow to love the land as much as he did. It hadn’t happened. He’d tried to please her and failed miserably.
After their honeymoon, their first outing in Elks Ridge as a couple has been to a birthday party for a neighbor’s wife. Shelley had hit it off with the men but hadn’t had very much to say to the women. She’d commented on their way home that women were often jealous of her looks and money.
Duncan had pointed out that he knew many of the women there and they weren’t like that. She’d laughed and said men never noticed that type of thing.
Wherever they went, even at church, she drew men, but the women would speak and keep moving. It wasn’t long before he began to notice that while men asked about her whenever she wasn’t with him, women never did.
She didn’t cook, had no interest in learning. She’d provocatively pointed out that he hadn’t married her for her talents in the kitchen. Since she had been a Houston socialite and grown up with servants, he’d tried to see things from her perspective and made excuses to his family, especially to his mother and Faith, who were annoyed that Shelley didn’t take any interest in her and Duncan’s home or the ranch. They hadn’t included him on the list, but he’d sensed he was at the top.
Naked, he stepped into the shower and turned the jets on full blast. He had been so gullible, so trusting, and it had come back to haunt him.
Citing boredom, the need to shop, or the need to get her hair and nails done, Shelley began going to Houston a couple of times a month, then weekly. He actually felt relieved when she found a salon in Billings she liked . . . until she began coming home later and later on her Saturday jaunts. One Saturday night when she wasn’t home by midnight, he went to look for her and found her in an upscale nightclub cuddled up to a man.
Duncan’s fist clenched in the shower as it did that night. It had taken all of his willpower not to plant his fist in the man’s smug face. Instead, Duncan had grasped Shelley’s arm to take her home, but she had jerked away.
She was tired of the ranch, tired of the dreary, monotonous life he lived, tired of him trying to force her to live his way. She deserved better. His choice, her or the ranch.
He hadn’t even had to think. “I’ll send your things to your father’s house.”
She’d gasped. Shock radiated across her face; then she coldly stared at him. “Your loss.”
He’d turned and made his way through the crowd that had gathered to watch the scene and recognized a couple from Elks Ridge. His humiliation would be all over town. Head high, he kept walking.
He’d never looked back or regretted his decision.
But to his remorse, he had wallowed in self-pity for a couple of months. Her cheating had taken a swipe at his pride, his manhood. He should have been able to satisfy his wife. He’d never failed at anything in his life . . . until Shelley.
At the time he’d been foolish and young enough to think the McBride curse wouldn’t affect him. He’d been wrong. At least his brother, Cameron, and sister, Faith, had escaped. If he had to bear the burden, so be it.
Shutting off the water, he stepped out of the enclosure and reached for a towel just as there came a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he called, knowing he’d see Rooster or one of his hands. He had a feeling that Raven planned to stay out of his way as much as he planned to stay out of hers. A sensible decision on both of their parts.
Rooster quickly entered, closing the door behind him. “I think we got a problem.”
“Livestock?” Duncan questioned, his body alert, all tiredness leaving him. His ranch, his responsibility.
“No. No.” Rooster stepped farther into the room. “It’s about you and that woman sleeping up here together.”
A ball of heat zipped through Duncan, tightening his muscles, pooling blood in his groin. Thankfully, Rooster was looking at his face. “We’re on opposite sides of the stairs.”
“Still close.” Rooster rubbed his bearded chin. “Might be a good idea if I bunked in until she leaves.”
“No,” Duncan said, a bit sharper than he intended. If there was anything worse than Rooster’s cooking, it was his snoring. A freight train had nothing on the cowhand, another reason he had a little house all to himself. It was that or have hands bleary-eyed in the morning from lack of sleep. Duncan would be hungry and exhausted. Then a thought hit. “Did she say she felt uncomfortable being here with me?”
“No. I can tell she’s one of them bra-burning women,” Rooster commented with a snort. “Said she had no interest in you.”
Good, Duncan thought. “Then I don’t see a problem. I’ll get dressed and be down shortly.”
“All right, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Duncan released the towel as the door swung shut behind Rooster. He’d have to be desperate to have Rooster stay. He and Raven weren’t interested in each other. He wasn’t dead, but he controlled his emotions.
Shelley had taught him a lesson about beautiful, deceitful women he wasn’t likely to forget. He’d have no difficulty remembering that Raven wasn’t for him.
Raven had just picked up her glass of sweetened iced tea when Duncan reentered the kitchen. Breath fluttered over her slightly parted lips. The man certainly had the “it” factor in spades.
Not even being dirty and tired had negated the impact he had on her. She’d managed to lock her knees again and appear curious instead of just short of being aroused.
“About time,” Rooster groused. “I already took the boys their stew. Ms. Raven must be hungry after all she’s done today.”
Midnight black eyes glanced to her and stayed. “I noticed. Thank you.”
Raven took a sip of tea to ease the dryness in her throat before answering. “You’re welcome. I had time.”
Rooster set a bowl of stew in front of her. “I would have gotten to it, but I was making this stew.”
Raven caught Duncan’s gaze as another bowl hit the table in front of him. Rooster took his seat and bowed his head. “Lord, thank you for the food we’re about to eat and bless those less fortunate. Amen.”
“Amen,” she and Duncan murmured in unison, both lifting their heads, both hesitant to pick up their spoon.
Rooster spooned in the stew and took a sizeable bite of the hot-water corn bread. “You two not eating?”
Wordlessly Duncan picked up his spoon and began to eat. Slowly his spoon descended again. Raven saw no escape. She picked up her spoon and dipped it into the watery stew that had jagged chunks of carrots, potatoes, and meat. She had expected it to taste bad, but it was probably the worst-tasting food she’d ever put in her mouth. And considering her travels to primitive areas, that was saying a lot.
“Good, huh?” Rooster said, a gap-toothed smile on his face. “Good food like this will stick to your ribs.”
“And throat,” Raven murmured, and saw Duncan’s eyes widen, the corners of his sensual mouth curve upward. Imagine, the man had a sense of humor. Perhaps there was hope they could at least be cordial. “When you came in, you looked as if you had a busy day.”
“Sorry if my earlier appearance offended you,” Duncan said, his voice as devoid of warmth as the eyes that drilled into her.
Raven frowned, more concerned with what he had said than his tone. Puzzled, she took the opportunity to stop eating and place her spoon on the plate beneath her bowl. “Why would you think I was offended?”
Lines raced across his forehead. “You said . . . Sorry if I misunderstood.”
Raven placed her hands on the edge of the table. “Dirt doesn’t offend me, Mr. McBride. As I said, I’ve been on numerous digs throughout the United States and in Europe. Nothing gets done without getting dirty.”
“Sounds like ranching life.” Rooster finished off his food and reached for another burnt lump of corn bread. “Are you some kind of gardener or something?”
Raven realized her slip. “Or something.”
“Ms. La Blanc is here to gather material for a book she wants to write,” Duncan put in.
“You won’t find a prettier place in the world than here on the Double D. I’ve been here most of my life. I plan to stay here until the good Lord calls me home.” Taking the empty bowl, Rooster went to the sink. “What kind of book?”
“History,” Raven answered.
“You’ve come to the right place.” He retook his seat. “This place is full of it. Everywhere you look. Eat up, and I’ll wash the dishes.”
“I can do them,” Duncan offered. “You can take off.”
Rooster straightened. “No, sir. You know when I sign up for a job I stick until it’s done.” He got up and went to the pot of stew. “Seconds?”
“No thanks,” Raven quickly said, taking another tentative bite.
“Boss, you’re not eating enough.” Rooster frowned, his eyes narrowing on the half-full bowl.