by Reece Butler
She suddenly yawned, her mouth opening wide before she slapped her hand over it.
“Bed,” he said.
“You just said you won’t touch—”
“Katie, you’re exhausted, still half-asleep, and unsteady on your feet. I’ve got the water running for your bath.”
She stilled. Those blue-green eyes opened wide.
“Bath?” she asked, soft and hopeful.
His urge to care for her, to have her turn to him with trust, surged past his arousal. He realized the two were linked. He wanted to caress her sore muscles, and to drive her wild with passion. At the same time, he wanted to make those eyes spark with fury and turn her over his lap, knowing she wanted it as well. That was not going to happen. Not yet. She needed a bath, food, and sleep.
“This tub’s so big someone like you could almost swim in it.”
He swept her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest.
“Put me down!”
She struggled, so he tightened his grip. “Nope. I’m carrying you. You’re too tired. Don’t want you to slip on the stairs.” He gave her his best ‘listen to the man’ look. She pouted, but stopped struggling. It was agony to hold her knowing he couldn’t do more, but the thought of not touching her at all was worse. He went through the doorway, past the bed, and kept on going into the en suite bathroom. He set her feet on the bathmat, made sure she was steady, then knelt to turn it off, leaving silence.
“I put your new stuff on the bed along with one of my T-shirts and Amy’s old sweatpants. They’ll be a bit big, but they’re clean.”
She blushed even deeper, dropping her eyes to the floor. She ran her hand over her head. “Ugh, my hair is greasy,” she said. “And I smell.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“That’s what the bath’s for. And when you’re done, hop in that bed and have a good sleep.”
“I’m supposed to work.”
He couldn’t help the snort of laughter. She was barely able to stand.
“Sweetie, you had a hell of a night. You worked the early shift at the Roadhouse and put a couple of good hours into that kitchen. You’re dead on your feet. I’m going to put together some cheese and crackers while you soak. I want you to eat everything on your plate and then sleep as long as you need. There’s a new toothbrush on the counter. If you want anything else, just ask, and I’ll be happy to provide.”
He thought his smile was friendly, but her little hands turned into fists. She gave him her version of the evil eye. He barely held back a snort of laughter. He’d had horses glare at him with more evil than this fiery gal.
“Why are you doing all this?” She waved her hand around the room.
“You’re tired, hungry, and dirty. We don’t get many visitors, but I remember what Ma taught me about making guests comfortable.”
“I’m not a guest. I’m the hired help.”
“You’re a woman who’s had a hell of a time. I did what I figured my sister-in-law, Amy, would want.” Other than the kiss. That was all about Katie.
“Oh.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Not everyone would do this.”
“Why not?”
“The people in my family don’t help others unless they’ll get something out of it.”
“What a bunch of selfish…” He stopped himself from saying something very insulting. “That is way wrong. A family takes care of each other. They love one another, even if they can’t stand each other sometimes.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. He got the impression that was the only way she’d gotten hugs. He wanted to give her one, but didn’t think she was ready for it.
“A child doesn’t know any different,” she murmured as if to herself. “They accept what’s around them as normal, and believe what they’re told. I’ve been away, traveling, for the last six months. I’ve realized I’m not incompetent, lazy, or stupid.”
“What?” She winced at his bellow. He lowered his voice though he couldn’t stop his anger. “Why the hell would anyone say that about you?”
“I’m the youngest, smallest, and least experienced in my extended family. Pretty much all my life, everyone could do things better and faster.” She gave a weak shrug. “I learned to think I wasn’t much good.”
Trey bit his tongue on all the things he could say about her screwed-up family. Most of his female relatives were strong-minded and smart. Though many were submissive to their husbands, they were equals and didn’t put up with bullshit from anyone. His cousin Lila Frost had grown up with a huge chip on her shoulder about being female. Since meeting Jet and Houston she’d realized she could be a rough, tough rancher and still paint her toenails pink. Getting pregnant with twins, one from each husband according to their resident ghost, great-whatever-grannie Beth, was about as feminine as you could get.
“Ranching is a tough business, for men and women,” said Trey. “We do everything we can by ourselves, but when we need help, it’s there before we can ask. Everyone has something to contribute. My niece, Emily, who’s three, helps Aunt Marci make cookies. Her five year old brother, James, brings in loads of kindling for their big black woodstove. Everyone helps in their way, and everyone benefits as they need. We support, rather than attacking each other.”
Most of the time, he added silently. Brothers and cousins sometimes needed taking down a peg or two.
“That’s the way things should be,” she replied quietly.
“Hop into that bath before it gets cold. Don’t fall asleep, or you might drown.”
She looked over. “It’s the biggest tub I’ve ever seen.”
“In a town where most men grow over six feet and have muscle, we like our furniture big.” He pointed to the corner with the shower. “And because of our living arrangements, our showers have to hold three adults. With extra room for a bit of fun.”
Her face pinked up again. He decided he’d better get out before he found himself kissing her again. Would he start at her head, her toes, or in the middle this time? “I’ll, ah, be in the barn with Sam. We’d appreciate if you made supper but don’t worry about it. If you sleep too long we’ll make do.”
He pulled the door shut behind him. The distinctive click of a lock followed. He kept on going. He didn’t want to hear the unmistakable sounds of a gorgeous woman removing her clothes. He brought her snack, leaving it on the bed. Faint splashing made him shudder in need. He hurried to the barn, his pants six sizes too small.
Fate had taken both his fathers in accidents far before their time. Fate had also directed Katie Winterbourne’s arrival in Climax right when she was needed. He looked up to the mountains.
“If you’re watching, do whatever you can make this work. Katie’s made Sam come alive. I want him to take a few uncalculated risks and realize he can survive them. Maybe that will make him realize life is more than just getting by.” Trey was tempting fate, but wasn’t that what his life had been all about until recently? “If you can get Katie to invite us into her bed, it would be icing on the cake.”
He was counting on his fathers knowing that he ate dessert first, and he started with the icing.
Chapter 6
It was mid-afternoon when Katie woke. She’d had the best sleep she could remember. Being clean, fed, and sleeping in a room with a lock did wonders. So did the erotic dream. She didn’t remember details, but she woke wet and horny. Though she was tempted to continue with her own hands, she got up. She straightened the bed, puzzling at its strange design. Many beds had metal bars but the series of fist-sized rings welded to the top of the headboard and footboard was unusual. They looked homemade, so perhaps someone had liked the design and made their own.
She washed up, dressed, folding up the legs of the sweatpants a few times, and came downstairs ready to work. She found a note from Trey on the table saying they’d be back for dinner. Since she had the place to herself she took a tour. In addition to the huge kitchen, mudroom, and massive sunroom, there was an office on the main floor. She peered through a c
overed glass jar on the corner of the desk, finally deciding the gold-colored nuggets could not be real. No one would leave them sitting out like that.
The second floor held Sam and Trey’s large bedrooms to the right, separated by a bathroom which had a large shower, but no tub. She only peeked in their rooms for an instant. They were fairly neat, with the beds made. Not that it took much to throw a comforter over the sheets. Their shared bathroom wasn’t clean to her standards, but at least she didn’t need a hazmat suit to enter.
There were two doors on the left. One opened to an empty bedroom, again connected to a bath. The second door was painted a dark gray and had an ancient-looking padlock on it. She tapped, discovering the door was steel. Whatever was in there, it was not her business. She had enough to clean with the rest of the house.
She went downstairs and got to work, singing along with Toby Keith as she peeled and chopped vegetables and meat for a stew. When she got to the chorus she belted out “How do you like me now?” at the top of her lungs. Her family had made fun of her all her life but she was now on her way, and would not be denied.
She loved to sing, but Winterbournes did not make a spectacle of themselves by singing in public, other than hymns in church. Nor did they sing and dance barefoot, dressed in a too-big T-shirt and sweat pants, even in their own homes. Winterbournes didn’t do anything enjoyable, as far as she could tell. They also didn’t scrub cupboards, floors, cook, or do laundry. Katie enjoyed seeing how she’d made the dingy room sparkle. Just cleaning the windows had done wonders.
The farmhouse needed more than a good scrubbing from top to bottom, though. It needed paint on every wall, especially the trim, and curtains on the kitchen windows. They’d been used to dry a man’s big hands too often so she’d pulled them down. The linoleum floor was badly worn in heavy-traffic areas. The stove had so many chips in the avocado enamel it looked like it was rotting. Rust crept over the harvest gold fridge, making it look like lichen on a rock. The motor, which ran too often, had a grinding noise that set her teeth aching. Yet, with a little TLC and a few replacements, the home could be very welcoming.
The CD ended, leaving her with the loud rattle of the fridge and call of raucous crows through the open window. The slam of a truck door made her twitch. She’d had the music up so loud she hadn’t heard anyone arrive. She wiped off her hands before opening the door and stepping onto the porch. An older woman with black hair streaked with silver waved, smiling widely.
“You must be Katie. I’m Marci MacDougal, from across the valley. I brought you some clothes.”
Marci pulled a large black garbage bag out of the passenger seat. She heaved it over one shoulder as if she was Santa Claus. Katie moved to help, but Marci insisted she was fine. She dumped the bag on the kitchen table and straightened. They were eye to eye.
“I’m so glad to meet someone my size,” said the much older woman. “I get tired of looking up.” She patted the bag. “I brought a few things I don’t wear anymore. Help yourself.” She looked around, nodding with appreciation. “You’ve been busy. It’s about time someone cared about this home.”
Katie reluctantly left the bag closed. She was the hostess, though Marci likely knew the home far better. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”
“Tea would be lovely. I’ve got a ginger cake in the truck. I’ll be right back.”
Katie put the kettle on, set out newly washed plates and forks, and then peeked in the bag. She lifted out a crisp white top trimmed in lace, and a fuchsia skirt. She held it up against her, discovering it ended a couple of inches above her knees. If only she could get her butt into it and the zipper closed. Baggy sweats were comfortable, but certainly not sexy.
“Some say redheads shouldn’t wear that color, but I hear you’ve got the attitude to wear pretty much anything you want,” said Marci. She set a cake covered in clear wrap on the table.
“Who said I have that type of attitude?”
“Tom, Dorothy, and Stella, to start.” She laughed at Katie’s blush. “Even if I hadn’t heard anything about you, listening to you belt out that song from the bottom of your heart would prove it to me.”
Her blush got even hotter. “Sorry, I thought I was alone. I don’t usually do that.”
“You should because you sing really well.” Marci nodded approvingly. “I heard you got the drop on Mr. Safe-and-Secure, Sam Elliott.”
Of course that story would be all over town. She hoped Trey wouldn’t say anything about the kiss they’d shared. Both times she’d been woken from a deep sleep so neither should be taken against her.
“I punched Sam in the nose when he startled me,” she admitted.
“Good! Having a strong sense of yourself is necessary around here. The men are big, strong, and opinionated.” Marci scrunched up her nose, though her eyes danced. “I have two dominant husbands who think they know what’s best for me. I also have a pair of twin sons who need taking down a peg or two on occasion. I want them to find a young woman who can stand up for herself.” She sighed, slumping slightly. “I want grandchildren, but unfortunately Ross and Brody aren’t interested in settling down. Yet.” Her lips flipped around into a grin. “I hear Trey is ready to find a wife now that he’s managed to live to twenty-five. I expect Sam is, too, but he’s too closemouthed to admit it, even to himself. I also hear that both of them find you quite fetching. Do you have a boyfriend or fiancé back home waiting for you?”
A rush of heat flowed toward Katie’s hairline. She should have realized she’d be big news in a small town. This being a ranching community, the pressure to marry and produce children was high, as Marci had said.
Katie grew up watching her relatives do almost anything to claw their way up the ladder. She’d learned to ignore their false smiles and lies, instead watching for clues in their eyes and body language. That had come in extremely useful during the last six months. It helped her to judge which patrons to smile at to get a good tip, and which to avoid to save herself from grief. She saw no hidden agenda in Marci. The woman wanted to be a grandmother, but understood her sons weren’t ready. Her tension eased.
“I’m not interested in marriage.” She added a smile to show she wasn’t insulted.
“Sorry, no more personal questions,” said Marci apologetically. “I forget you’re from the city where people don’t know each other.”
She looked so chastened that Katie couldn’t be mad. “There’s no one waiting for me.”
No one except her grandmother, who she had to e-mail. The others had likely forgotten about her. Out of sight, out of mind, unless one was plotting revenge. Marci held her arms out.
“I’m a very huggy person. Unless you tell me no, I want one.”
Strong arms wrapped around her. Katie clung to her, tears prickling as Marci rocked her from side to side. What would life have been like if she’d had a mother who cared, rather than one who acted as if she was a nuisance for existing?
Ten minutes later they chatted like old friends as they sipped tea and nibbled on Marci’s tasty ginger cake. Though she’d been in Climax less than a day Katie fit in far better than with her stuffy, controlling family. Other than Gram, she didn’t miss any of them, or their infighting. She already knew she’d miss people like Marci, and the Whites, when she left.
“This cake is really, really good,” she said as she reached for another piece.
“Glad you like it. I brought the recipe because it’s Sam’s favorite. I also brought my triple ginger cookie recipe. They’re easier to carry in a saddlebag than cake.”
Katie’s outstretched hand paused. “I’m only here for a few days.”
Marci set her mug down and leaned forward. “Would you consider staying longer? Say, for a couple of weeks?”
Stay? Katie looked around the kitchen, noting the dusty spider webs high in the corners above the cupboards that she’d yet to tackle. She suddenly noticed smudges on the door frames at the height of Sam and Trey’s hands, as well as lower down. From children
, or visiting dogs? She hadn’t noticed any dogs on the ranch. She could finish the kitchen today, and do a good cleaning of the common rooms tomorrow. But there was a lot more that needed done before she’d consider the place clean.
“Well, I can’t buy a bus ticket with two days’ pay.”
“Do you know how important the hay crop is to our valley?” asked Marci.
Katie nodded. She’d overheard the ranchers talking about it at the Roadhouse that morning. She’d had a few moments so had listened as they explained how beef cattle were not kept in barns during the winter. Deep snow, common to Montana, would cover up all traces of food. Therefore animals had to be fed stored hay all winter or they’d starve. What was unusual in this valley was that they used almost the same process to harvest it as they had over a century ago.
“It’s a crazy, busy time, though lots of fun,” said Marci. “The men, and some women such as Aggie Adams and Lila Frost, work outside from dawn to dusk cutting, raking, and making haystacks, mostly on horseback. We women do the food. It’s hard, physically demanding work for everyone. The grandmothers take care of the children and the grandfathers maintain the equipment.”
“I told Tom and Dorothy I’d be happy to volunteer, though I’m not sure what needs doing, or if anyone would want and outsider helping.”
“You’re no outsider.” Marci waved her hand around the room. “If you can get this much done in a couple of hours, you’ll fit right in.” Her smile faded. She clasped her hands and set them on the table. “We need more than another pair of hands, Katie. We need someone to take charge so all decisions go through one person. It would’ve been Stella, though she wasn’t very enthused about it. Tom said you have a business background?”
“Well, I have an MBA, though not a lot of practical experience other than with volunteer organizations. Mostly I helped with paperwork, worked at animal shelters and food banks, and planned fundraisers.”
“So, you’ve done inventory, ordered supplies, and organized work parties?”