“He’s done some really awesome stuff,” Hoss said, checking the numbers on the ear tags of the fully weaned five-hundred-pound calves while Rafferty wrote them down.
“I can see why Jacey likes him,” Gabby added, separating out a calf that looked a little on the puny side.
So could Rafferty, unfortunately. The guy was charming, intelligent and authentic, and he clearly cared about Jacey—]as a friend.
That rankled. Why, Rafferty couldn’t say. He didn’t begrudge Jacey her friendships—he admired the devotion she had quickly earned from everyone on the ranch. She was a genuinely great woman, the kind of person everybody liked to have around. He supposed it was Cash’s lack of interest in the baby that really stuck in his craw.
Rafferty couldn’t understand how a man could father a child, and not be all that interested in his offspring. But it was clear Cash was not.
And on the surface, anyway, Jacey seemed to accept his disinterest.
But could that really be the case?
Would she remain content with the situation as it was, or start to want more out of Cash…if only for Caitlin’s sake?
And if so, what would that mean to the man Jacey was involved with?
“Right, boss?”
Rafferty turned to Stretch.
Stretch shut the door on the cattle truck. “Another week or so and fall roundup ought to be over. Right?”
Rafferty nodded. “Good work, guys.”
Smiles all around. “Thank you,” Hoss said, patting his ample gut, “for finally providing us with a bunkhouse cook who can turn out a meal as totally awesome as she is.”
Hoots of agreement followed.
But could they keep her? Rafferty wondered. Especially now that Cash had reappeared on the scene?
He had the rest of the day to brood about it.
By 5:00 p.m., the crew was dog tired and ready to go back and hit the showers and see what Jacey had whipped up in their absence.
They turned their mounts in the direction of the ranch buildings and galloped toward home. Where, as it turned out, after they had taken care of their horses for the night, they had an even bigger surprise waiting.
“LIKE IT?” Jacey’s eyes sparkled as the men walked out of the barn. Multicolored outdoor Christmas lights sparkled along the eaves and the porch of the bunkhouse. Evergreen garlands framed the front door. The wreath on the door had been embellished with a big red velvet bow and a half-dozen candy canes. The overall effect, even Rafferty had to admit, was downright festive.
Standing right next to her, looking pleased as could be, was Cash Holcombe. He had a backpack over his shoulder, keys to his truck in hand.
“How’d you get all this done?” Rafferty asked.
Jacey’s smile grew wider. “Cash helped me.”
Cash, Rafferty recalled, was supposed to take off right after breakfast that morning.
Cash shrugged off the praise. “Least I could do for all the hospitality shown me.”
“Aren’t you staying for supper?” Red asked.
Cash shook his head. “Already ate. Gotta be on my way.” He shook hands with all the men one by one.
His grip was as firm and forthright as he was. “Thanks for giving me a place to bunk last night,” he told Rafferty.
“No problem,” Rafferty said.
Cash turned back to Jacey. He engulfed her in a big, friendly hug. “I meant what I said, now. You want me to call that friend of mine for you, I will. Her family owns a bunch of apartment complexes in the Austin area. Not as luxe as what we’re used to, but they might have an opening for a property manager.”
Jacey looked at Cash with a mixture of gratitude and affection. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
“Good enough! Fellas.” Cash aimed a salute their way. “Happy holidays.”
“To you, too, Cash,” the men chorused.
The adventurer got in his truck and drove off.
Rafferty felt small for thinking it, but he was relieved to see him go.
“Dinner will be ready as soon as you hit the showers,” Jacey told the cowboys.
A collective “yeehaw” was followed by a beeline for the door.
Rafferty remained in the yard with Jacey. He was inexplicably ticked off again, feeling more like Scrooge than ever.
“Well—” she gestured expansively at the decorations “—you didn’t say. What do you think?”
“Looks…good,” Rafferty admitted reluctantly, wishing he had been the one helping her instead of Caitlin’s biological daddy.
They studied each other.
He wasn’t sure what she was thinking.
“Where’s Caitlin?” he asked finally.
“She’s sleeping inside the bunkhouse, in her Pack ’n Play.”
More silence, fraught with even more emotion. Rafferty wished he could haul Jacey into his arms and claim her as his, once and for all, so none of this would matter. So he wouldn’t have to feel jealous. Or worry about any other man making a play for her, because everyone would know they belonged to each other.
“I would have helped you with that, you know.”
“As part of you not celebrating Christmas or any other holiday again?” She dared tease him about things no one else, not even his father, would.
The merry glitter in her eyes had him bantering back. “Part of my demonstrating to you how unaffected I am by all the sights and sounds and routine elements of the yuletide. And any other holiday,” he added for good measure.
“Watch out, Easter Bunny.”
He liked exchanging quips with her. Almost as much as he enjoyed kissing her and giving her her first-ever climax. “If you need help or anything,” Rafferty persisted. Even in bed. “Let me know.”
She shook her head, her eyes as filled with humor as they were wary. “I sure will, cowboy,” she said softly.
ALTHOUGH HE WOULD HAVE LIKED nothing more than to sit across the dinner table from Jacey, taking in her lovely countenance, Rafferty did not go to the bunkhouse for dinner with his dad. He begged off, saying he’d get something later. He wanted to update the books on the computer, accurately record which cattle had been sold to the other ranch.
Eli didn’t buy it.
Rafferty didn’t care.
He was beginning to get way too involved with Ms. Jacey Lambert and her baby. Before he knew it, he’d not only be feeling like Jacey belonged with him, he’d be thinking Caitlin was his little girl. Both there, like some sort of Christmas gift from heaven above, to take the place of his late wife and the child he had wanted so very much and lost before he could ever enter this world.
And that wasn’t so. Jacey was leaving the ranch as soon as she could arrange for a permanent job and a home back in the city. Caitlin had a daddy. The daddy didn’t want her or care about Caitlin. But that didn’t change the facts…Jacey was a city girl. A property manager by profession, not a bunkhouse chef. She wasn’t interested in marriage. She preferred to go it alone. The ranch couldn’t be more remote.
“Rafferty?” a low voice spoke from the doorway of the study.
Jacey stood there, a foil-wrapped dinner plate in her slender hands. She looked pretty as could be, in her dark green suede skirt and matching sweater, with a Santa pin fastened above her left breast. Sad and disappointed, too. She sauntered in, her stacked heels clicking on the wooden floor. “Are you mad at me?”
Mad for you, maybe, he thought, then immediately pushed the inappropriate thought away. He had decided not to go there, hadn’t he? Unless something essential changed in their overall situation.
He took his hands off the computer keyboard and rocked back in his chair. “Why would I be mad at you?”
She cleared a place and set the dinner tray on his desk. “For decorating the bunkhouse without running it by you first.”
The familiar mixture of womanly perfume and baby powder teased his senses. Again, he played it cool. They were both adults, free to do—or not do—as they pleased. “You don’t have to
ask. You can do what you want in that regard.”
She looked him up and down, before zeroing in on his eyes. “Then why didn’t you come over and eat with the rest of us?”
Because I’m falling hard for you. And it’s a mistake.
“I had work to do.”
She came closer. “So your father said.”
Rafferty stood, pushed back his chair. Restless now, he began to pace. “Speaking of work…don’t you have some to do?”
She followed him, albeit at a safe distance, just out of reach. “Dishes are all done. I nursed Caitlin and put her down in her crib—she’s asleep for the evening.”
Which meant, Rafferty thought, she was free. Or as free as a new mommy was likely to be.
She paused, wet her lips. “Your father is in the bunkhouse playing poker with the fellas. They wanted to know if you want to join them.”
“Nope.”
She scoffed, shook her head. Dark hair spilled across one shoulder, teasing the top of her Santa pin. “That’s what they said you’d say, all right.”
He wished she would go away before his hard-on got really unmanageable. Insults usually worked. “You’re just a fountain of information,” he drawled.
Undeterred, she propped her hands on her hips. “And you’re just as ornery as can be.”
He set his jaw. “I want to be alone.”
She glided closer. “First, I want to tell you there is no reason for you to be jealous of Cash.”
He snorted. “Is that what you think is going on here?”
She angled her thumb at the center of her chest, announced smugly, “That’s what I know is going on.”
This wasn’t a competition, he reminded himself. He wasn’t putting everything on the line for a woman who wasn’t planning to stay, who’d never be happy here anyway. He had done that before, to disastrous result. Lost a wife and a child.
“You are really trying my patience, sweetheart,” he warned.
“And you are really trying mine,” Jacey retorted. She rose on tiptoe, the softness of her breasts pressing against his chest, the wonderful womanly scent of her inundating his senses. “So it wasn’t my imagination,” she whispered against his lips, her yearning for him as clear as day. “You and I do have a remarkable chemistry, the kind that doesn’t fade, even—” her smile broadened “—in the midst of great personal disdain.” She moved back as abruptly as she had moved in, put her heels back down on the floor. As the distance between them widened, the welcoming light went out of her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said meaningfully, letting him know it had been his loss. “I can show myself out.”
Rafferty let her go—as far as the portal. Then instinct took over. She wasn’t the only one who wanted. He caught her wrist and reeled her in. “The only thing I want you to show me,” he said gruffly, drawing her close, “is this.”
Chapter Eight
Hauling her close and ignoring her gasp of surprise, Rafferty lowered his head and delivered a searing kiss. To his satisfaction, Jacey did not pull away, and he let all he had felt during the long tumultuous day come through in another long, thorough kiss. With a quickness that stunned him, she surrendered with a tremulous breath. The softness of her hair and skin, the scent of her tantalizing fragrance waltzed through him and flooded him with desire. His lower body hardened as her tongue swept into his mouth, hot and hungry, and she ran her hands through his hair and brought him closer still.
Her passionate response to him was all the encouragement he needed. With a low groan, Rafferty put the moves on her, too, twining his tongue with hers, drinking in the taste and smell and touch of her, making no effort to disguise how much he wanted and needed her.
He wanted to love her now, tonight, in every way.
She trembled as his hands found her breasts.
He cupped the soft weight in his hands, molding and caressing, and felt her own body tauten in response. He sensed the need pouring out of her, along with the passion.
Unable to help himself, he delivered another kiss, this one sweeter, more deliberate and provoking than the last. His need to possess her as overwhelming as it was inevitable, he kissed her long and hard, soft and slow.
Until there was no longer any doubt that what they were experiencing was something extraordinary…that she’d made him come back to life in a way he was never alive before.
“Rafferty,” she murmured helplessly against his mouth. Wishing. Wanting. Needing. Even as she feared the complications of a physical as well as emotional involvement.
“I want you,” he murmured, kissing her collarbone, the side of her neck, the sensitive spot behind her ear.
The surprising thing was she wanted him, too, even if it was only a short-term fling.
The only problem was…
She flattened her hands across his chest and pushed back. Wishing she could, for once, just throw caution to the wind and follow her heart.
“It’s too soon after Caitlin,” she said shakily.
Abruptly, the light of recognition gleamed in his eyes. “You still can’t…”
Briefly, she shut her eyes against the mixture of disappointment and understanding in his eyes. “Not for a couple of days…” She was going to have to see the doctor again, get the official okay.
They exhaled slowly, drew apart.
“It’s probably for the best, anyway,” she continued, knees trembling, beginning to feel a little panicked at the way she had nearly lost her head. “We shouldn’t hurry into anything.”
If this was meant to be, they should both be willing to wait for the right time and place, no matter how long it took. If not, well then, that was her answer, too.
“YOUR DAD SAID your mom had a portable sewing machine around here somewhere.” Jacey stood in the doorway of Rafferty’s study the following evening. “Do you know where it might be?”
Rafferty pushed back from the desk.
Jacey had gone back to her quarters to nurse an impatient Caitlin before dinner was even over this evening. He had missed seeing her. “Storeroom is my guess.”
She took a step closer, her green eyes reserved. “Mind if I look?”
“I’ll help you.” Rafferty stood, noting the faint blush in her cheeks. No doubt she was thinking about what had happened the first time they were in there alone. Or what would have happened last night in this very study if they’d had the all clear from her doctor.
Her chin took on a stubborn tilt. “You don’t have to stop what you’re doing.”
Rafferty wasn’t about to let this chance go by. They had precious little time alone, and with his dad off again, this evening for a holiday social engagement…“You kidding? Anything to keep from having to work on the end-of-year inventory information.” He fell into step beside her. “So what do you need the sewing machine for?”
She smiled. “I want to make Christmas stockings for the mantel in the bunkhouse.”
He hadn’t changed his mind about Christmas decorations, but he was sure the cowboys would appreciate it. “You sew a lot?”
She slid her hands in the pockets of her snug-fitting gray flannel trousers. “I did when I was a kid. We didn’t have a lot of money for clothes, which made it hard to keep up with fashion trends, so Mindy and I both learned how to sew.”
He opened the storage door, turned on the light, stepped inside. “You don’t have a sewing machine?”
Jacey paused to look around and get her bearings. “Actually, I do but it’s in storage in San Antonio.”
Jacey began threading her way through the disorganized jumble of belongings. As she moved past the chaise where they’d had their hot-and-heavy make-out session, he caught a glimpse of round hip and soft breasts. Desire roared through him.
“So what kind of stuff did your mom sew?”
Telling himself to stop thinking about making love to Jacey—that would happen only when she let him know she was ready—Rafferty replied, “Drapes, bedspreads, tablecloths and matching napkins, stuff like that. Never clo
thes, though.”
Jacey paused in the center of the room, frustration turning down the corners of her lips. “Do you know what it looks like?”
Rafferty nodded. “It’s in a beige hard-plastic case about the size of a medium suitcase. Has a handle on it.”
Jacey threaded her way through excess furniture and stacks of plastic-encased linens that his mother had once rotated on a quarterly basis. “I found a manual typewriter.”
And Rafferty discovered something else. Wordlessly, he hunkered down.
JACEY HAD NEVER SEEN that look on Rafferty’s face. Reverent, sentimental, emotional.
She put the set of antique Fiesta Ware back in its box and threaded her way through the jumble of stored belongings.
By the time she reached his side, he was sitting on a ripped leather ottoman. He had a stack of picture frames in Bubble Wrap in his hands. He’d already torn the covering off the first.
“You and your parents?” she guessed.
He showed her a color photograph that had to be at least twenty-five years old. “On our vacation to the Sierra Nevadas.”
“You all look so happy.” Rafferty especially.
Rafferty nodded, admitting this was so. “Every summer the three of us took a vacation. A two-week trip where all we did was hang together as a family.”
They looked through the pictures. His mom and dad made a handsome couple—both had such kind eyes, the type of joy everyone wishes for radiating from their faces. As for their only offspring…he was all lighthearted exuberance.
Jacey got to see Rafferty from one to eighteen. “You were a cute kid.” Adorable, really. No wonder all the girls around here had been lining up to go out with him.
He winked at her and set the stack of framed photos back in the box. “I’m still cute.”
Too cute for her own good, that was for sure. Jacey swallowed to erase the parched feeling in her throat. “When did the vacations stop?”
Regret tautened the lines on either side of his mouth. “When I was eighteen.” He reflected pensively. “I thought I was too old to go on trips with my folks—I wanted to vacation with friends. I was too stupid to realize that I could have done both.”
A Baby in the Bunkhouse Page 9