by Cassie Miles
Gabby unfolded the note from Michelle and placed it on the counter. With a long sweep of her arm, she sprayed the note. A powdery scent floated through the kitchen. She squinted as she studied her handiwork. “It didn’t smear the writing. That’s a good sign.”
“But this note is probably only a couple of years old,” Charlotte reminded her. “Can you make out the handwriting?”
Gabby read aloud:
“To my family, I have lived a full and eventful life. Though I left you long ago, you have never been faraway in my thoughts. I would not change my life decisions. Perhaps, I would add to my experience by spending more time with you, especially with you, Rene, my stubborn sister. I have come to believe that we can never escape our DNA and must embrace our legacy.”
Zach recognized the tone and the lack of sentiment. Michelle had never been one to cry over the past. She never offered excuses or apologies. “That sounds like her.”
“It does,” Charlotte agreed.
He and Charlotte and Michelle had a lot in common. They had all three been young when they left their parents’ house and made their way in the world. None of them had been orphaned, like Gabby and her brother, but they’d made the choice to leave. Charlotte had been the luckiest; she had Michelle to catch her when she fell.
“There’s a sketch,” Gabby said. “It’s a young version of Rene with a high-collar shirt and a long, thick braid hanging over her shoulder.”
Charlotte moved close to study the small sketch. “She looks more like Daniel than you.”
Zach took a look at the picture. He agreed with Charlotte. There wasn’t a physical similarity between Gabby and her great-aunt from Brooklyn. He saw hints of Michelle in the almond shape of her eyes, but they weren’t alike, either. Gabby was unique.
“Here’s the other note from Michelle,” Gabby said. “It’s mostly a pencil drawing of a landscape with mountains and a river. It says, ‘Open eyes, open heart, wide horizon.’ Sounds like poetry.”
Zach studied the picture. “This looks familiar.”
“The scene is probably from nearby.”
“Not the landscape itself but the picture. I think she did a painting of this view. I might have seen it in the portfolio of her art that Osborne put together.”
“The portfolio is upstairs in my bedroom,” Gabby said. “Let me get this all put away and we’ll take a look.”
While she carefully stacked the old papers between sheets of plastic, her brother and Charlotte both headed up to bed. For a few more minutes, Gabby puttered around in the kitchen, putting mugs into the dishwasher and wiping down the countertops. As she rattled off a list of errands they needed to run tomorrow, he had the distinct impression that she was avoiding a more serious discussion.
Finally, they went upstairs to her bedroom and closed the door. They sat on opposite sides of her bed with the art portfolio open between them. He flipped through page after page, occasionally pausing to admire Michelle’s artwork. It didn’t take him long to find the picture he’d remembered.
When he showed it to Gabby, she said, “You’re right. That’s the same picture. The one she hid in the pages of that book looks like a preliminary sketch for this one.”
He read the title of the painting. “Welcome Home.”
“Do you know this location?” she asked.
“Not that I can recall.” He grinned. “You might have noticed that there’s a lot of land outside the front door.”
She smiled back. “Can I ask you an important question?”
He nodded.
“When I bumped into that intruder, was it nothing more than bad timing? A horrible coincidence?”
“I don’t think so.” He wished he could give her a better answer. “I think the creep was watching you through a window, waiting for a chance to get you alone.”
“That’s a relief.” She sprawled back against the pillows. “If it had been a coincidence, I’d have to conclude that the Universe had it in for me.”
“And that’s better?” He would never understand this woman. “You don’t mind that some psycho is stalking you?”
“Of course I do. But psychos can be dealt with. Bad luck follows you everywhere you go.”
“And you’re going with me tonight,” he said. “You’ll stay at my place. That’s safer for everybody else who’s living here, and I want to keep an eye on you.”
A sexy smile curved her lips. “You convinced me.”
* * *
A FEW HOURS later, Gabby was settled in a pleasant bedroom at Zach’s house. There was only one thing wrong with it: this wasn’t his bedroom.
Before she and Zach had left the Roost, leaving a patrol of cowboys behind to keep watch, she’d told Charlotte that she’d be spending the night at Zach’s. As she explained the security reasons for her decision, the logic sounded purely transparent. Even someone as unsophisticated as Charlotte had noticed the attraction between Gabby and Zach. She’d given a wink and a nod, assuming they’d be going to bed together.
Her brother’s reaction had been much the same. He had even told her that he approved of Zach, as though she was asking for his blessing after all these years they’d spent apart.
Though she wasn’t one to worry too much about other people’s opinions, she was fairly sure that everybody else would think she and Zach were having sex. The only person who hadn’t gotten the message was...Zach. Did he expect her to make the first move? She knew his bedroom was next door to this one because he’d pointed it out when he’d dropped off her overnight bag and stowed her Glock in the top drawer of the nightstand beside her bed.
Unable to decide what to do, she paced in a tight circle between the dresser and the windows. Should she go to his room? If she approached him, she knew he’d welcome her and they’d make wild, passionate, amazing love. What would that do to their relationship? He’d begun to trust her. He’d shared a piece of his soul when he told her about his addiction.
Did they need more time? Should she wait until she knew everything about him? With the way he dribbled out information one word at a time, learning all about him might take decades, and she didn’t want to waste another minute.
The obvious solution was to talk to him. She cinched her black kimono more tightly around her waist and tiptoed into the hallway. The door to his bedroom was ajar and the lights were on. Summoning up her courage, she entered.
“Zach, I want to...” Her sentence faded away. He wasn’t in the room. That was when she heard the splashing from the shower in the adjoining bathroom.
This might not be the best time to approach him, but she was primed for this talk. She opened the bathroom door. “Zach?”
When he pulled aside the plaid shower curtain and poked his head out, steam from the hot water swirled around him. “What’s wrong? Did you hear something?”
“There’s no danger.” She stared at the rivulets of water dripping down his forehead. His wet hair was spiky and sleek at the same time. She could see enough of his chest to remind her that behind that curtain he was naked. She stammered, “I j-j-j-just wanted to talk. Is that okay?”
“Yep.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Nope.”
He ducked back into the shower in a bathtub, leaving her in the steam to talk to a curtain. Having come this far, she wasn’t going to back down or change her mind. “When I decided that I’d follow the terms of the will and stay at the ranch, it changed the way I thought about you. Can you hear me?”
“I hear just fine.”
She pulled down the fuzzy lid on the toilet and sat. “We have this crazy physical chemistry going on. Every time I look at you, I get buzzed. And I know you feel it, too.”
“What was that about a bus?”
“Buzzed,” she said more loudly. It was exactly the way she was feeling right now. “Buzzed as in getting all hot and tingly and turned on. At first, I thought we should just have a fling. After a few nights of wild passion, we could both go our separate ways, which a
re so very different, worlds apart. Do you know what I mean?”
“I’m a man, Gabby. I was born knowing the meaning of casual sex.”
“Then you might not like what I’m going to say next.” She unfastened the sash on her kimono. It was getting hot in here. “I want more than casual sex.”
He didn’t respond. Not a “yep” or a “nope” or anything else. She listened to the thrumming of the shower, hoping she hadn’t taken a wrong turn.
Swallowing her embarrassment, she continued, “I want to be friends and also to be lovers. Even though it might be hard and I might get hurt, I want a relationship with you.”
Her statement hung in the steamy air like a dark, ugly storm cloud. This conversation wasn’t going the way she’d hoped, and she was beginning to feel foolish. She should have just gone to bed in her separate room, pulled the cover over her head and pretended that she didn’t care.
He leaned halfway out of the shower and extended his hand. “Join me.”
“In the shower?”
“I’m not sure how we’ll handle a relationship. Hell, I’m not even sure what that means for you and me. But at least we’ll be clean.”
That was good enough for her. She stood and slipped out of the kimono. Her lingerie for tonight was a simple peach tricot with cap sleeves and a scoop neck. She could have played coy and fished for compliments about how pretty she looked, but an incredible naked man was reaching for her. In seconds, she peeled off the gown, shed her bikini panties and took his hand.
As she stepped over the porcelain wall of the bathtub and entered his shower, her gaze slid from the top of his head to his toes in a quick and remarkably thorough survey, considering that he didn’t give her time to look twice. He pulled her against him. His skin was slick and smooth, covering his hard-muscled chest. The water from his body moistened her, and she reveled in an explosion of sensation that took her breath away. She was being pulled into a rushing current and abandoned herself to the moment. Whether or not they were meant to have a relationship, this felt so right.
As he kissed her, his left hand splayed across her back, holding her close while the right hand cupped her buttocks and fitted her against his groin. A wildfire raced through her, and she imagined the water sizzling when the droplets hit her superheated flesh.
A groan rumbled in his throat, and the sound was exciting because it meant he wanted her as much as she did him. Her doubts vanished. This was meant to be.
He turned her around so the spray from the shower sluiced down her back. As she arched her neck to get her hair wet, his hands roamed her body. He cupped the fullness of her breast and flicked the nipple with his thumb, sending another surge of pleasure through her.
He gazed into her eyes. “Should I wash you?”
“Am I dirty?” Though gasping and in the throes of amazing passion, she still managed to be a smart aleck. “Am I a dirty, dirty girl?”
He swatted her naked butt. “Maybe we can talk about that later. Right now, I’m afraid we’ll run out of hot water.”
“I don’t want a cold shower.”
“Then we should take this to the bedroom.”
Stepping out of the shower, they took their time toweling each other dry, and she had a chance to admire his lean physique. The word gorgeous wasn’t enough to describe his sinewy arms and torso. He was perfect.
“You could be a male model,” she said.
“Shoot me now.”
“I know lots of women who would buy anything you were wearing. They’d dress up their boyfriends, but none of the other men would look as good as you do.”
“Whoa, Gabby, I’m supposed to do the sweet-talking.”
She combed her wet hair straight back from her forehead. “Is that how this works?”
“Your ancestor—Louis the Frenchman—knew how to tell his wife that she was beautiful. That’s why he wrote those letters. I’m not as good with words.”
“I prefer a man of action.”
In his bedroom, she pulled back the comforter while he closed the door. Earlier, he’d told her that he’d leave his bedroom door open so he could hear if an intruder approached.
She asked, “Shouldn’t you leave that open?”
“Why?”
“Security,” she said. “With the door open, you can hear if the bad guys come sneaking up on us.”
“That was when I thought you’d be sleeping next door, and I might need to rescue you. That’s not necessary.” He leaned against the door for emphasis. “Everything that’s precious to me is right here in this room.”
“Me?”
“You,” he said.
He was a man of few words, but they were all the right ones. She opened the sheets and slid between them. Tonight she would share his world. Tonight they would make love. Tonight they would truly start their relationship.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Gabby was wide-awake a few minutes before seven, even though Zach’s bedroom curtains kept the room nice and dark. Being careful not to wake him, she snuggled against his shoulder in a position that had become familiar. The more she learned about him, the more she wanted to know. And every intimate detail felt like a revelation. She knew he was ticklish just below his rib cage. His left arm and leg bore the scars from the rodeo injury that ended his career. Last night, they’d made love again and again. She’d expected to be tired but was energized instead. Maybe the cure for altitude sickness was spending the night in the arms of a cowboy.
After dropping a little kiss on his chin, she reluctantly left the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom where her kimono hung on a wall hook. Though she would have preferred to spend the whole day naked in bed, they had a million things to do, ranging from the mundane to the exceptional, from picking up her car to tracking down an expert who could preserve the hundred-fifty-year-old love letters.
In the mirror over the sink, she saw her hair sticking out in all directions. Her blow-dryer was in the other bedroom, along with her clothes and makeup, but she didn’t want to run and get them. For now, she’d just dampen her hair and comb it back. The arid Colorado climate made her straight hair even straighter, which was actually a plus. If she kept her bangs trimmed, styling would be unnecessary.
When she returned to the bedroom, Zach was yanking open the curtains. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed, and she admired the view. Coming up behind him, she slid her arms around his middle. “Good morning.”
“Great morning.” He swiveled and gave her a lazy kiss. “I’d like to take you back to bed.”
“I’d like that, too.”
“But I’m already running late. I need to get out to the stables and give the men their instructions for what needs to get done today.”
“So early?”
“The day starts when the sun comes up.” He gave her another quick kiss. “Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen for breakfast.”
She didn’t want to be apart from him. “Do you mind if I look in your closet?”
“Why?” His blue eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”
“I’m thinking about the shirt I’m designing for Charlotte, and I thought you might have some fancy embroidery that would inspire me.” She sauntered over to his closet door. “May I?”
“Suit yourself.”
While he was in the bathroom, she flipped through the shirts and jackets hanging on the rack. In the back, she found several Western-style shirts. Almost all of them were snap front and long-sleeved with piping on the breast pockets. Most of the fabrics were plaid or a neutral color, but a couple of these shirts were worthy of a Western-wear peacock with metallic fringe draped across the chest and multicolored, curlicue embroidery covering the yoke. If a low-key guy like Zach was willing to get so fancy, she had to wonder what a more flamboyant cowboy would wear.
While she got dressed, an idea began to form in her mind. If she started selling custom embroidered shirts, she could live at the Roost and still have a fashion career. This might be a viable possib
ility.
In the kitchen, Rhoda greeted her warmly, but Gabby sensed an undercurrent of tension from the busy little woman who zipped around the large kitchen, putting together breakfast burritos with green chili. Gabby was certain that Rhoda knew she’d spent the night in Zach’s bed, and she didn’t want things to be difficult between them.
Rhoda dashed into the dining room to freshen the coffee of two ranch hands who were eating their breakfasts. When she returned, she said, “Help yourself to the burritos warming on the stove. Use as much chili as you want, but be careful, it’s hot.”
“I’ll just have coffee for now,” Gabby said as she poured herself a cup. “Can we talk?”
Rhoda halted beside the sink, tucked her hands into the pockets of her pin-striped chef’s apron and leaned against the counter. “What’s on your mind?”
“I want you to know that I care about Zach.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
“We’ve only known each other a couple of days, but it feels like I’ve been waiting to meet him all my life.” Gabby sipped her strong black coffee. “This isn’t a casual fling. It’s...”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“But I do. Ever since I got here, I’ve been hearing about the Rousseau family, heritage and legacy. The way I see it, you’re the closest thing to family that Zach has. If I have a relationship with him, you’re part of it.”
“There’s only one thing I’d like to know about your relationship.” She cocked her head to one side, a movement that was oddly similar to Daphne. “Are you going to go running back to Brooklyn and break his heart?”
Gabby considered for a moment before answering. She didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep. “That’s not my intention. I’m planning to live at the Roost for three years.”
“That’s not what your brother says.”
“I make my own decisions,” Gabby said. “Daniel doesn’t tell me what to do.”
Rhoda opened her arms and gave her a hug. “I wish Michelle had brought you out here sooner.”