“Matthew, I—”
“Shh.”
“But—”
“Just...shh.” He curled his hand behind her neck, and she rocked toward him, bracing her hands on the ground between them. The calf grunted and scooted away. Jaimie’s head tilted and he covered her inviting lips with his own.
Then, before he really succumbed to the madness careening through his blood, he set her from him, settled his hat and stood. “He needs to be fed every few hours,” he said gruffly. “If you want the job during the daytime, it’s yours.”
Her eyes shimmered. She nodded and rose, too.
“Jaim—”
“Matt—”
They both stopped. Matthew’s lips twisted. “Ladies first.”
She blinked. Despite the yawning barn around them, the walls of the stall seemed far too close. “I, um. just wanted to say...you know...thanks. Again.”
He shook his head. “And I told you that you were earning your keep.”
She nodded and swallowed. He was too nice for his own good. Jaimie knew that she could never hope to fill Maggie’s shoes around this place. The silence lengthened. Thickened. She looked down at the calf. “Well, I should, you know. Get going.”
“Right”
But he didn’t move out of her way. Just stood there until she felt the need to wipe her cheeks of the dirt that surely must be there for him to watch her that way.
“What are you doing this evening?”
She barely kept from jumping out of her skin when he spoke. “I...what?”
“Tonight? Do you have plans?”
She braced herself. No doubt he wanted her to prepare another dinner for him and that woman. “No,” she said, wishing she could say otherwise.
“Then we can ride over to the cabin,” he said. “You haven’t been there yet and the view is terrific.”
She blinked. “Cabin?”
“Yeah.” He waited a beat. “Unless you’re not interested.”
“No. No. Sounds, uh, great.”
His jaw cocked. “Good. Good. So, let me know as soon as you’re ready. We’ll take one of the snowmobiles.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his down vest and stepped out of the stall. “And get a coat on, before you catch pneumonia.”
Alone with the calf, Jaimie leaned her forehead on the rail. Had she just dreamed that conversation with Matthew? Or had he really asked her out? To the cabin, no less. Squire had told her about the cabin, located several miles from the big house. She’d gathered it was a retreat for the Clay men. It was where Squire went when he was particularly grouchy after a tiff with Gloria. She wondered if it was a haven for Matthew as it apparently was for his father.
Then she willed her silly heart to just calm down. He was just being nice again, she told herself firmly. It wasn’t as if he would take her out there to...to...try to seduce her or anything like that.
Unfortunately, her stern talking to herself didn’t keep her stomach from tightening with anticipation as she raced through the rest of her few chores and prepared a cold supper for Maggie and Joe.
She didn’t dare take time to change her clothes again. There was certainly nothing wrong with her bright turtleneck and jeans. And she didn’t want Matthew thinking that she was, well, primping or anything. For all she knew, he would change his mind about the entire thing.
It was not quite evening when Jaimie came across Matthew, sitting at the table in the kitchen, drinking a hot mug of coffee. She braced herself, nearly convinced that he would call off the outing. But he didn’t. He just asked if she was ready, and before she knew what had happened, she was sitting behind him on a big, hulking snowmobile, flying across the snow-covered fields.
It took longer to reach the cabin than she’d expected, and if it weren’t for the searing warmth of Matthew as she huddled close to him on the ride, she would have been frozen to the bone.
He, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed by the cold at all as he ushered her inside the rough-hewn cabin. He lit two gas lanterns and laid a match to the firewood stacked in the cabin’s stone fireplace.
Shivering inside her coat, Jaimie stood near the fire, anxious to feel its heat.
The flames started ticking at the kindling and soon the warmth of the fire battled the cold interior of the cabin and he rose and turned to her.
“Your nose is red.”
She managed a smile, even though her cheeks would surely crack. “The rest of me is probably red, too.” She scooted closer to the fire, holding out her mittened hands. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she said around her teeth which were chattering annoyingly. “We still have to drive back again.”
“You should have worn your gloves we bought,” he said as he tugged off her mittens and folded her cold hands in his.
She sighed at the welcoming heat on her hands. “Hey, come on. You don’t like my purple mittens?”
He tucked her palms against his thick, knit sweater. “They do seem to suit you,” he admitted. “Your Arizona blood just hasn’t acclimated itself yet to Wyoming winters.”
“You’re telling me.” She looked around the cabin with forced interest. Truthfully, she was far too interested in the broad chest where her hands lay sandwiched between wheat-colored knit wool and his callused, warm palms. Finally she couldn’t take it a second longer and slipped her hands free with a murmured thanks. “The ride was fun, even if it was cold,” she admitted. “Have you always had snowmobiles?”
“For the past ten, fifteen years or so.”
She nodded. “Do you always use them for work?”
“Tonight’s not work,” he pointed out after a moment.
She smiled faintly. She was still chilled, but she walked around the cabin, anyway. Considering the Clay wealth, she was rather surprised at the sparseness of it. A single bed was situated against one wall. Near the fireplace, a battered sofa and two chairs faced each other, separated by a rough wood chest that bore the obvious marks of boot heels. The only item seemingly out of place was the telephone that sat on a three-legged stool next to the bed.
“So this is where Squire comes to go fishing, then.”
Matthew nodded and moved his coat and gloves from the couch to hang them from the empty hooks on the wall by the door. “The creek comes up pretty near here. When the moon comes out more, you’ll be able to see it better.”
Jaimie knew with certainty that looking at the creek by moonlight with Matthew Clay would be a dangerous pastime. But then, coming here to this quiet, out-of-the-way cabin wasn’t exactly one of the most sensible things she’d ever done, either.
Suddenly feeling much warmer, she pulled off her coat and scarf and hung them beside his.
The fire snapped and crackled cheerily, and she turned to see Matthew sitting on the couch. With lots of empty space beside him.
Reminding herself that Matthew had made his preference for Donna quite plain, she walked over to one of the chairs and sat there. Matthew’s eyes seemed even more translucent in the golden light from the fire and the lanterns. She folded her hands in her lap. Crossed her legs. Looked into the fire. “Well.”
“Well.”
They smiled faintly, though Jaimie felt little amusement. She felt...antsy. Embarrassingly tongue-tied. An ongoing amazement to her, considering the fact that she’d verbally gone toe-to-toe with this man more than once. Not to mention tongue to——
No. She really couldn’t start thinking that way. Start thinking? What a laugh. She brushed her palms down her thighs and drew in a breath. “Do you fish a lot, too?”
“Now and then.”
She pressed her lips together, nodding. “Um...what kind of fish?”
“Is that what we came up here to talk about?”
Her mouth ran dry. “Well, I don’t know,” she answered slowly. “You invited me. Remember?”
His lips twisted. “That I did.”
“And now you wish you’d kept your mouth shut,” she concluded. “Why did you, anyway? Was Donna busy?”
/>
His eyes narrowed. “You do have a mouth on you.”
Her cheeks flamed. She curtailed the impulse to get up and walk out. She would be lost in the dark within two minutes.
“You ever notice how we usually end up arguing?” he asked after a long silence.
Pretending an avid interest in the fraying weave on the arm of her chair, she lifted a shoulder. What she noticed was that he hadn’t denied her crack about Donna.
“Ever wonder why that is?”
She moistened her lips. “No.”
Matthew watched her face and knew she was lying. Her eyes were far too expressive. She knew the answer as well as he did. They either argued, or they kissed.
And kissing was definitely on the list of things they shouldn’t do here in the cabin where no one could possibly interrupt them.
Perhaps he should start an argument.
“So what do you do when you come to the cabin,” she asked. “If you’re not fishing, I mean.”
He shrugged. “Play cards. Read. Vegetate.”
“Somehow I can’t see you vegetating,” she said drily.
He’d spent hours here doing just that after BethAnn dumped him. And two days straight when she’d married Bill. When she’d died, he’d closed himself up here for a week, with only a few bottles of whiskey to keep him company. “You’d be surprised,” he murmured.
“So what do you read?” Jaimie looked around. “I don’t see any books.”
“There’s a whole stack in that closet over there. Books. Magazines. Stuff that has collected over the years.”
“Or cards. Solitaire?”
“No one around to play poker with.” Well, that was brilliant. Matt, old man. Bring up poker, why don’t you? He shot to his feet. “Hungry?” He didn’t wait for her answer, but went to the closet he’d just mentioned and pulled it open. “I’m starved.”
Naturally the woman was curious. Of course she had to follow him and stand right behind him, the lemon scent of her hair filling the room along with the smell of wood smoke.
“What do you have in there?” She peered around his shoulder. “Good grief! It’s a whole pantry.”
“Squire spends a lot of time here. Remember?”
Jaimie reached past him to run her fingertips along the neat stack of bottles and cans. “A person could live out here.”
“Yeah.” All of his brothers and he had more or less done that at one time or another. Sometimes together. Sometimes not. “See anything that takes your fancy?”
She looked up at him, and something shifted in her eyes. They went from bright and inquisitive to slumberous and enticing in less than a blink. Thankfully, she moved away with a shrug. “Anything. I’m not fussy.”
Matthew stared at the cans, then blindly reached for a few. He had them opened and in pots, which he heated over the fire before he realized he’d at least had the sense to choose soup and pork and beans. The way his mind shut off, he’d fully expected to be heating up a can of fruit cocktail.
As if by silent agreement, they ate their meal and cleaned up the few things that needed cleaning, without conversation.
He knew it was getting late and that they should be getting back. He’d already let the fire die way down. Yet the fact remained that he was reluctant to leave.
Jaimie stood at the one window the cabin contained. The one that overlooked the creek. “You’re really blessed,” she murmured.
“You don’t think it’s too...isolated?”
She looked at him in surprise. “Well, we are pretty far from civilization. But sometimes civilization is overrated. Don’t you think?”
“I barely tolerated college,” be admitted.
“It’s hard to picture you sitting at a school desk.” She grinned crookedly. “I think you’re more the outdoors type.”
BethAnn had cried and whined and complained when Matthew told her he was not going to stay in town and planned to return to the ranch after finishing his education.
Jaimie had turned around again, holding her hands around her eyes so she could see out the window that her nose pressed against with innocent delight. “It’s so beautiful out there. Like a postcard.”
The firelight flickered over her luxurious, wavy hair, and Matthew figured it was pretty dam beautiful in here. He banked the fire building in his gut as thoroughly as he banked the one in the fireplace. Though it took quite a lot more effort. Then he handed her coat and scarf to her. “Wear this one, also,” he said, holding up a second, larger coat. “You won’t get cold with both coats on. It’ll reach your knees, and the sleeves will cover your hands.”
She pulled her own coat on and wrapped her black scarf around her head and neck. He helped her on with the additional parka. “Whose is it?”
He left her to fasten it and pulled on his own coat and gloves. “Mine.”
Her fingers paused for a moment, then continued fastening. “Thanks.”
“For the coat?”
She pulled her knit cap over her ears. All he could see of her were her deep green eyes and her inviting lips. “For sharing this place with me.”
As simply as that she’d put her finger on the lingering question in his mind of why he’d brought her here. To share it with her.
Except for his brothers and his father, he’d never once brought a female to the cabin. Not even BethAnn. She would have turned up her nose at the rough simplicity of the place.
Not Jaimie, though. She considered it a blessing.
He tugged her scarf up over her chin, covering those soft pink lips before he succumbed to their temptation. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter Ten
Late Sunday afternoon arrived, and so did Squire. Jaimie came upon him sitting at the kitchen table in the big house working a crossword puzzle, cursing beneath his breath. She sat down beside him, looking past his arm to the puzzle. “Hover,” she said, pointing.
“I know, I know. Dang it all, girl, would ya let me do this?” But his eyes twinkled, and Jaimie knew he wasn’t really annoyed. He wrote in another word.
Jaimie held her tongue. For all of ten seconds. “I think nineteen down is supposed to be erstwhile.”
He clicked his pen a few times. “Hmm.” He scratched the correct word over his previous answer. “Can’t read this at all.”
“That’s what you get for doing a crossword in pen.”
He grunted. “Pencils are for pansies.”
It was such nonsense, she thought with a grin.
Tossing his pen onto the paper, Squire leaned back in his chair. “So what all’s been going on here while I’ve been down courtin’ the most prickly woman on the face of the earth.”
“Gloria’s not prickly.”
“She’s as prickly as a porcupine.”
“Didn’t fix you waffles, huh?”
He shook his head. “Tried to pawn off that putrid decaffeinated coffee on me, too.”
Jaimie pressed her lips together, trying vainly not to chuckle.
“Don’t you laugh at me, missy. Someday a man’s going to lead you a merry chase, and I’m gonna sit back and laugh like a hyena. Hey, don’t look like that. I’m just teasin’ you, child.”
She brushed her hair behind one ear. “I know.”
“So what’s stuck in your craw?”
“Nothing.” She rose and refilled his coffee cup.
“My foot. My boy Matt still giving you a hard time?”
She felt her cheeks heat, thinking about Matthew taking her to the cabin. “No. Of course not,” she managed. “But I think he’ll be happy when Maggie’s back on her feet and things get back to normal.”
“Normal is often overrated,” Squire murmured. He frowned, wrote, then scratched it out two seconds later.
The mudroom door slammed open, startling them both. Matthew stomped inside. His jeans were soaking wet, as was the lower edge of his parka.
“What on earth?” Jaimie jumped up, grabbing a handful of dishcloths from the drawer.
“Hell’s bell
s, boy. It’s a tad cold for swimming ain’t it? What happened?”
Matthew clenched his teeth together to keep them from chattering. “Don’t ask.” He turned, stiff with cold, and tossed his hat onto a peg. Jaimie was mopping at his legs with her little dishcloths. She was at his knees now. God help him if her fluttering hands went any higher. “That’s not helping,” he gritted.
She snatched her hands away, bright color flooding her cheeks. “Ex...cuse me.”
He stifled a curse. A man just didn’t swear around women. Yet Jaimie goaded him to all sorts of behavior he wasn’t accustomed to. Like taking her out to the cabin last night.
Squire thumped his chair down on all four legs. “Jaimie, go up and start a bath for Matt. Not too hot, he’s probably close to frostbit.”
Avoiding his eyes, she left the towels on the table and hustled out of the room. Matthew shivered. His fingers were numb, but he managed to undo his coat and he let it drop to the floor.
“What happened?”
Matthew grimaced. “I got wet.”
Squire grunted. “Did something stupid, didn’t you.”
Matthew didn’t have any intention of answering. No one ever had to know that his mind had been so completely filled with Jaimie that he’d fallen in the water trough through his own clumsiness. At least he’d been spared the indignity of any witnesses other than Sandy. And she’d figured he’d invented some new game.
He sat down and worked off his wet boots and sopping socks. Overhead he heard the sound of water rushing through the pipes.
“Well, don’t just sit down here,” his father finally said. “Git yourself warmed up. And be nice to that girl,” he ordered, when Matthew headed for the stairs.
He stopped and looked back at Squire. “What?”
“I said, be nice to Jaimie.”
Matthew closed his eyes, calling on reserves of patience he wasn’t sure he had anymore. “You know, Squire, sometimes you’re a real pain in the neck,” he finally said. Slowly and clearly, so there was no misunderstanding.
The sound of Squire’s laughter followed him up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom.
The Rancher And The Redhead Page 15