by Desiree Holt
They’d never made her feel less than everything they ever needed, but she knew they’d both longed for more children. Her father had put his foot down after her own difficult birth, refusing to risk his beloved wife again. Had made the trip into the city to have a vasectomy just to be sure. They’d never told her, of course. Betty and Jarrod Mills had been old-fashioned in their views about what a young girl should and shouldn’t be told. Thankfully, Clyde had been happy to answer all her questions growing up, or she might have still believed the stork brought babies in a blanket and dropped them on the doorstep.
Shaking her head, Harriet shed the rest of her clothing and dumped them into the basket. She made her way toward the en suite bathroom and climbed under the hot stream from the shower with a whimper of relief. The pounding water soothed the tension from her neck and shoulders as she tugged loose her plait of hair and scrubbed it clean with the unisex herbal shampoo she favored. She’d learned to her chagrin how much flies and bugs loved the fruity, flowery scents of more feminine products, and was resigned to smell like eucalyptus for the rest of her days. No frills and fripperies for her, only practicalities. It wasn’t that big of a deal. She’d never been a girly-girl, always happier climbing a tree and roping a steer than playing dress-up and learning to dance.
Forcing herself from the shower before she used the last of the hot water, she wrapped her body in a thick dark towel and bound her hair up in a smaller one. Her efforts to clean her teeth were half-hearted at best, and by the time she shuffled into her bedroom, her eyelids drooped at half-mast. The expanse of the queen-sized bed, covered in a beautiful patchwork quilt her mother had sewn, dominated the room and she gave a blissful sigh at the sight of it. She hung her towel on the back of her door, and flipped off the light.
An unfamiliar brightness drew her across the room to her window. Stepping to the side, she lifted the edge of the curtain and peered across the darkness of the large, enclosed yard. The main barn stood on the opposite side to the house, the bunkhouse catty-corner to it, separated from the small foreman’s bungalow beyond it by a narrow strip of land. The security light above the barn had been activated, and it’s high-intensity beam illuminated the yard.
A silhouette moved in the light, crossing from the barn to the bunkhouse, the shoulders too wide to be anyone other than Tobias. He paused, then turned his head toward the house as though he sensed her watching. She dropped the corner of the curtain quickly.
Pressing her hand to her chest, she huffed out a little laugh. Never mind whether Clyde found him to be a good worker or not, if Tobias caught his new boss spying on him through her bedroom curtains while stark naked, he’d hit the road as fast as possible. What if he didn’t though? Her heart thumped against her fingers. What if big, broad Tobias Langstreet caught her peeking and decided to investigate?
She nudged the edge of the curtain aside and bit back a gasp at the still figure standing in the yard. He’d changed position and now stood facing directly toward the house, arms folded across his thick chest. What is he waiting for? Does he think I am going to push up the window and invite him in? Alarmed by how tempting the idea was, Harriet dropped the curtain and dashed across her dark room to jump into bed. She yanked the covers up around her ears, as though he would be able to see her through the solid wall of the house. Ridiculous.
She punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape and burrowed a little deeper under the covers. She had no time to entertain foolish notions of a wild affair with a stranger. That kind of nonsense was all well and good for the well-thumbed pages of the romance novels stacked three-deep in the bookcase across the room, but she didn’t have room in her life for a man.
Not even one as mysterious and good-looking as Tobias Langstreet.
Chapter 3
It had taken longer than he liked for Tobias to persuade his bear to stop staring at the closed drapes of Harriet’s bedroom and return to the bunkhouse to settle down for the night. He’d tossed and turned for a while before sleep finally claimed him. He’d woken with the first rays of dawn creeping in the window, and had been disorientated for a moment until he’d recognized his new temporary home.
Calling it a bunkhouse didn’t do justice to the building. Compared to some of the places he’d stayed, the accommodation for the hands at the Happy T was akin to a luxury hotel. Each of the six bed spaces had a built-in privacy screen, providing an L-shaped area with room for a bed, a bureau and an armchair. The well-appointed shared bathroom, a recreation area with a television, and a kitchenette occupied one end of the structure.
The lack of occupants for the other five spaces confused Tobias, most of the guys he’d worked alongside put up with a lot worse than this. Harriet didn’t strike him as a shrewish boss and the barn had looked in good order, if a little neglected in places. The animals had been clean and well-fed, with plenty of fresh bedding in each stall. There was nothing from his first brief inspection to ring any alarm bells. So where is everybody else?
He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, decided the scruff on his jaw wouldn’t do any harm for another day or two, and bent over the sink to clean his teeth. The steam from his shower and the sharp mint of his toothpaste occluded his senses, so the first clue of a visitor was a knock on the door. He rinsed, spit, then left the bathroom still wiping his hands on a towel. An older man leaned against the open frame, but he hadn’t intruded into the main room itself—a respectful gesture Tobias appreciated.
“G’morning.” The man’s pale eyes might be a little cloudy, but his stare was keen as he studied Tobias. Giving the old man time to look his fill, Tobias shook the towel out and draped it over the back of a chair at the dining table, keeping his eyes slightly averted. His bear grumbled at the submissive posture, but in this situation, they were not the dominant animal in the room. The faded denim shirt the man wore hung loose on his frame, but the breadth of his shoulders spoke of a time when he would have filled out the material. A faint sour smell clung to the man, evident even through the clean smell of soap. Tobias wrinkled his nose at the scent of sickness.
“Good morning, sir. You’re Clyde, I take it?” From the conversation with Harriet the previous day, there wasn’t anyone else the old man could be. She’d briefly touched upon her father’s passing a few months previously, and mentioned no other men but the foreman.
“That’s me. Harriet told me you helped her out of a bind at the auctions yesterday. ‘Appreciate that.” Clyde crossed the threshold and they shook hands. A faint tremble ran through his fingers, and Tobias wondered what exactly was wrong with him. Not my place to ask.
“Well, I’m hoping I did us both a favor if it leads to some steady work. She told me one of your hands walked out on her—”
Clyde scowled as he swept off his battered straw hat and placed it on the dining room table. He pulled out the chair beside him and dropped heavily into it. Tobias took his cue and moved toward the kitchenette to set the coffee maker brewing. First impressions couldn’t always be relied upon, but his bear gave no indication of concern about the foreman. Given the evident staffing issues, he’d expected some bully-boy to come swaggering in.
He turned toward the table as the coffee maker began to hiss and drip in the most beautiful song known to man. The foreman scrubbed a hand over his eyes, then folded his arms across his chest with a sigh. “I just don’t understand what got into Pete. I knew he was upset when I had to let Mitch go, but when I found the money missing from the petty cash under his mattress, there wasn’t much else I could do.”
Tobias frowned. “One of your men was stealing?”
Clyde shook his head. “A hundred bucks. Stupid damn kid. He could’ve just asked me for an advance on his pay if he needed a helping hand. Not sure how he ended up short in the first place, it isn’t as if there’s much to do around here.” The old man sighed again.
“And the guy who walked out yesterday was a friend of his?” Tobias tried to puzzle his way through the patches of information.
Most places he’d worked, the crew boss kept some petty cash on hand for emergencies and small payments. It would never have occurred to him to dip into the cash, couldn’t think of anyone he’d worked with who would. Ranching crews worked on trust. You needed to know you could rely on the person riding beside you, know they would watch your back the way you did theirs. Everyone lived on top of one another, so it would be hard to keep it a secret if someone was stealing or skimming.
“Mitch swore blue he had nothing to do with the money, but Shane, our local veterinarian, saw him in my office, and the money was right there under Mitch’s bed.” Clyde scratched the side of his nose, thoughtfully. “Pete took it real bad when I let Mitch go, but I thought he’d come around until he walked off yesterday. He’d obviously planned it because he packed his gear and took it with him. I wish he’d talked to me first.”
Turning away to avoid the look of sadness on Clyde’s face, Tobias busied himself fixing a couple of mugs of coffee. He carried them to the table, then retrieved a small jug of milk from the refrigerator, and a bowl of sugar from a cupboard. Placing them by the mugs, he took a seat. He shifted position until he could keep an eye on both Clyde and the open doorway, then settled back. The wooden chair creaked a little under his weight, but like the rest of the furniture in the bunkhouse, it was sturdy and well crafted.
The gimlet brightness returned to Clyde’s eyes, as he fixed them on Tobias. “So, you know already we are in a bind. Doesn’t mean I won’t show you the door at the end of this meeting if I don’t like you.”
Tobias stifled his laugh with a cough. “I would expect nothing less.” He reached for one of the mugs, laced it with a good splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar while he figured out what to say next. Raising the mug to his lips, he blew on the surface, then took a large swallow. The jolt of caffeine perked him up. This was a good place, with good people if his instincts told him correctly. He could carve a place here.
For a while at least.
Setting the mug down, he met Clyde’s gaze. “I know it all seems very convenient, but I was just in the right place at the right time. I’m not looking for any drama. A hot meal and a warm bed at the end of a good day’s work and I’m happy enough. You don’t have to make any commitments to me, I’m happy to give you what help I can and tide you over for a while.”
Clyde had fixed his own drink while he listened, and now sipped silently. Tobias concentrated on his coffee. Bears weren’t hasty creatures, so he was content to wait Clyde out. They weren’t normally impetuous either, and the way he’d pushed Harriet into accepting his assistance had been very out of character. He liked to keep his head down and his feet moving, so why did this little backwater place speak to him?
The answer came to him in a wash of fresh, green scent and a light tread on the steps outside. Harriet peered through the doorway, the thick length of her plaited hair dangling forward over her shoulder as she tilted her head. “There you are. If I’d known we were having a coffee klatch, I would have brought my knitting.” A sunny smile lit her face, taking any potential sting out of her words.
“Cheeky brat.” Clyde’s response spoke of a deep and lasting affection, as did the burst of bright laughter from Harriet. The joyous sound filled the air and arrowed straight into a dark, closed-off part of Tobias’ heart. His earlier thought came back to him. Good people.
Harriet tossed her braid behind her back and set her hands on her hips. The gesture drew his attention to the sculpted ebb and flow of her body. He buried his face in his coffee mug before he got caught ogling her. “When you’ve finished your business, I’ll be up at the top pasture.” She spun on the heel of her boot, sending another waft of eucalyptus and woman across the room, and clattered down the steps out of view.
Tobias drained his mug and rested his hands on the table, ready to push out of his seat. He assumed they would be getting to work, and his bear was damn keen to follow wherever Harriet wanted to lead, but Clyde waved him back down. “Not so fast, Tobias. I have a few questions first, starting with how a man of your age—what are you forty, forty-five?” Tobias lifted a shoulder, he’d take the number; although, it was a good thirty years shy of his actual age. The foreman continued, “how is a man of forty-plus still drifting between casual jobs?”
“I guess I never found anywhere or anyone I liked enough to stick.” It was the plain truth. His bear would keep him moving until they found a territory to suit them both. Wolves and felines might prefer to run in packs, but the bear shifters were a more solitary bunch and they roamed far and wide seeking their place in the world. His home would always mean something to him, but he and his six brothers were spread across the country, each looking for their perfect spot.
Clyde eyed him speculatively. “There’s something about you, Tobias. You have an air about you I’ve only come across once before in my life. My old company sergeant in ‘Nam was a lot like you. A solid presence in the face of all us shit-scared kids. You’ve got the look of him as well, same eyes.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “The scariest bastard I ever saw on two legs.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but compressed his lips over whatever words he held back.
Tobias swallowed. His brother, Jacob, had served during that hellish war. By the time he’d come home, he’d been practically feral, his bear battling constantly for control. He’d disappeared deep into Yosemite, and no one had heard from him in decades. “I had family over there, sir. The world never ceases to surprise me at how small it is sometimes.” There was nothing factually incorrect about his statement, but the obfuscation still burned his nose.
The foreman studied him for a few long moments before apparently making a decision. He picked up his hat from the table and stood up, the chair-legs scraping on the wooden floor. “Let’s see you in action, and then we can talk some more, okay?”
Tobias cleared the table, rinsed the mugs quickly and tucked the milk and sugar back in their proper places. His own sweat-darkened hat hung on a peg by the door, and he grabbed it as he followed Clyde out the door. He’d passed the first inspection, and he knew he could turn his hand to any task the foreman cared to throw at him. Glancing over his shoulder at the plain, sturdy building, he nodded. It would serve as home.
For now.
Chapter 4
Harriet placed her hands in the small of her back and stretched to ease the kinks in her muscles after another long day in the saddle. It was still too soon for the constant panic in her gut to fade, but things had begun to feel a bit more manageable. Clyde was still on the lookout for some extra help, but having Tobias around had made a huge difference to them both already. There was more color in Clyde’s cheeks, and Harriet had gone from exhausted to just plain tired. Whatever task needed doing, Tobias was there, often anticipating things before she even thought to add them to the list. He never complained. Didn’t say much of anything really, but his relentless energy lifted the worst of the burdens from her shoulders.
Straightening up, she stripped Starlight of her tack and hooked it on the wall beside the open stable door. She would get to cleaning it later, first she needed to groom her beloved mare. A gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday, they’d grown up together. Turning to the gray, Harriet frowned as she rubbed her hand over the horse’s hindquarters, and her palm came up wet. They’d ridden a fair stretch of the boundary fences that day, but they’d taken it slow and easy.
“Hey, girl. What’s the matter?” She petted the mare, working her way forward until she lifted the horse’s head to check her eyes. Instead of lipping her shirt pocket in the hopes of finding a treat, Starlight shied away and dropped her head. Not wanting to spook her, Harriet checked her over for signs of injury. Other than the sweating, Starlight seemed fine, until she crouched down and noticed some swelling on her front legs.
Whispering soothing nonsense, Harriet checked the mare’s back legs and found the same issue. “Damn.” An unpleasant gurgling came from the horse’s gut and she whinnied in distress. Fear struck
Harriet’s heart. Securing the horse in her stable, Harriet ran from the barn calling for Clyde as she dashed across the yard.
“He went to make a start on supper. What’s the matter?”
Tobias’ deep voice came from behind her and she spun in his direction. He stood on the steps of the bunkhouse, stripped to the waist. Water dripped from his wet hair and trailed over the bulked muscles of his chest. Her mind blanked as she followed a bead of moisture down the thick trail of hair running between the clearly defined lines of a magnificent six pack set of abs. Her fingertips itched to trace the beautifully sculpted lines of his torso, to feel the play of all that power beneath her touch.
“Harriet?” Tobias began to descend toward her, and she shook away the inappropriate surge of desire.
“Something is wrong with Starlight. Can you watch her while I call Shane?” Not waiting for an answer, she spun away and ran for the house. The comforting smells of Clyde’s blow-your-brains-out chili wafted through the open kitchen door. She ran straight through, muddy boots and all, and grabbed the phone in the hallway, hitting the short-cut key to connect her to her friend.
He answered on the first ring, “Hey, Harry, what’s up?”
His cheerful, familiar voice stole all the strength from her knees, and she slid down the wall to a crouch as she tried to squeeze her words around the lump in her throat. “Oh, Shane. I need you. Starlight is ill. She’s acting strangely and her legs are swollen. Please come!” Her voice cracked, and she shoved her fist against her lips to hold back a sob. Starlight was more than just a horse— she was all the memories of her father bound up in one precious creature.
The aching loss of his death swamped her, and she couldn’t focus on the words her friend babbled in her ear. A calloused hand tugged the phone free from her limp grip, and Clyde urged her up onto her feet. The familiar scent of Old Spice engulfed her as he drew her into his arms and held her while she soaked the front of his flannel shirt with her tears. “It’s all right, pet. Hush now, Clyde’s here.”