Too emotionally raw to make a response, Kate tightened her arms around him, tears matting her eyelashes. Please, God, she prayed fervently, please, please let this work out.
Inhaling unevenly, Tanner leaned his full weight against the door, drawing her deeper into his embrace, his touch meant to comfort as he massaged the base of her spine. Pressing his head closer, Kate turned her face against the curve of his neck, a wave of guilt washing through her. He had given her so much but had taken nothing for himself. Closing her eyes in shame, she hugged him against her. "I'm sorry," she whispered unevenly.
He smoothed his hand up her back, resting his jaw against her temple. There was a hint of amusement in his voice when he answered, "I'm not."
She lifted her head and looked up at him, not sure about his amusement. He gave her that slow, sensual smile that turned her insides to honey, an unmistakable twinkle in his hazel eyes. "This beats the hell out of what I had in mind."
She loved his smile, and she loved his amusement, but she felt ashamed that their encounter had been so one-sided. Her throat tight, she softly caressed his cheek, unable to hold his gaze. "I wish it could have been different," she whispered, a catch in her voice. She looked up at him, her expression solemn. "This has all been so one-sided, Tanner."
He stared at her for a moment, then became intent on her mouth as he ran his thumb along her lower lip. "Don't worry about it," he said, his tone gruff. "We'll get it together sooner or later."
Taking his face between her hands, she stretched up and kissed him softly on the mouth, her breath catching as he pulled her hips closer and took control of the kiss. It was long and lingering and oh, so sweet, and by the time he let her go, Kate felt as if her legs were going to give out under her. Releasing his breath in a long, shaky sigh, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. They remained like that for several moments, simply taking comfort and pleasure from each other. Then a sound from outside broke the spell.
Straightening, Tanner looped his arms around her hips, pressing a kiss against her temple. "I've got to go, Katie," he said, his tone rough with regret. "We're going to have to blow an old beaver dam downstream to drain the water that's backed up on the road, and Ross is waiting for me."
Loath to let him go, Katie closed her eyes and caressed the back of his neck, the silk of his hair tickling the back of her hand. Finally she spoke, a funny wobble in her voice. "Will you be coming back here tonight?"
He drew his hand across the curve of her hip, pressing her closer. "Yeah," he answered, his voice low and husky. "I'll be back for supper." His expression somber, he lifted her chin and gave her one final kiss. Then, without looking at her again, he turned and swept up his hat and settled it low on his head. A minute later the screen door slammed shut behind him. Missing his warmth, Kate huddled against the chill, watching him cross the gravel drive to Ross's truck; then she turned and reentered the kitchen.
Scotty, his head propped on his hand, was making bomb-blasting sounds over his cereal, and she was just in time to see him launch the bright green dinosaur with bull's-eye accuracy. Milk splattered onto the tabletop. She heaved a sigh and looked in supplication at the ceiling. It was obviously time to come back down to earth.
"You do that again, Scott Allan, and your dinosaur is going to be history."
He fished it out of his cereal and sucked it dry, then swiveled his head to look at her, his eyes narrowing. "Mr. McCall said you had a bad day yesterday so we should let you sleep in this morning."
She thought about the red car, then made herself disconnect from the flicker of fear. She picked up a tea towel that was draped over the back of a chair and folded it. "It was sorta a three-kite day, all right."
Scotty knew exactly what a three-kite day meant. It was in reference to the day last spring when he and Mark had totaled three kites and he got his mouth washed out for saying that word. He grinned at her. "Did you say a swear?"
She gave him a pointed look. "I brought you treats, remember?"
His grin broadened into pure mischief. "You said a swear, didn't you?"
"You," she said, changing the subject, "can quit with the bombing runs and clean up your mess. And go make your bed."
He heaved a world-weary sigh and rolled his eyes. "Do I have to?"
"Yes, you have to."
He heaved another dramatic sigh and slid off his chair. Kate hung the towel on the handle of the fridge, then started toward Burt's room. She heard another bomb blast just as she entered the room.
Burt gave her a fierce look the moment she entered. "Well, where have you been? Tanner was going to feed me some of that slop he calls porridge, but I said I wouldn't eat that if he stuck a cattle prod in my ribs."
Kate restrained a grin, folded her arms and stared at him. "Well, well. And who made you king for the day?"
Burt stuck out his chin and glared at her, unable to hide the glint in his eyes. "I've always been king, and don't you forget it."
Kate nearly laughed. God, but she did love this cantankerous old man.
Mark came out of the bathroom, doing up the snap on his jeans, a rolled-up comic book tucked under his arm. He gave his mother a censuring look. "Burt's getting hungry, you know."
Staring at her young son, Kate responded, her tone dry, "The crown prince, I presume?"
Mark looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, and Burt snorted. The old man patted the space beside him on the bed. "Don't give her any mind, boy. She's got a bean up her nose this morning. Now, you climb up here and finish reading me that story about BlastoMan."
Kate rolled her eyes heavenward and turned. A bean up her nose, an eighty-year old comic connoisseur and exploding dinosaurs in the kitchen. Maybe she had lost her mind.
By ten o'clock the clouds had started to break up, the sun was trying to break through, and the boys started pestering her to go out. Knowing that Buddy was in the barn, she finally gave in and let them go down to feed Bess and play with the puppies. She bathed Burt and shaved him, then got him settled for his nap. Tanner had told him about the washout, and Kate got a big lecture about deep water and taking chances, and she assured him that she wouldn't even cross the Circle S creek for the remainder of the summer.
Once Burt was asleep, Kate went upstairs to vacuum, a funny flutter taking off in her chest when she came abreast of Tanner's door. Setting down the vacuum, she took a breath and pushed it open.
She had never been in it before last night; after his issue over her doing light housekeeping duties, she'd thought it was best if she didn't push that limit. But now it was different. He had taken her there.
It had been dark the night before, and the blinds had been pulled when she'd gotten up, so she'd been left with only shadowy impressions. Crossing to the two windows set in an alcove, she released the blinds, then turned, a fluttery sensation settling in her belly when she saw the jumbled bedding. It made her heart race just thinking about what had happened in that bed.
Knowing she was going to be in big trouble if she let her thoughts ramble, Kate studied the room. Big and sparsely furnished, with low walls and a gabled ceiling, it was painted the same white as the rest of the upstairs, but here the floors were hardwood, and the wood moldings and baseboards had been stripped and refinished. The mattress was king-size, set in a heavy wooden frame with a hand-carved headboard. There was a matching highboy, a very old steamer trunk with brass bindings and a huge oval handmade braided rug on the floor beside the bed. What surprised her was the large, unframed canvas on the one full-size wall in the room, the one along the hallway. It was a landscape, bleak and beautiful, of the barren rolling hills, with a horse and rider off to one side. The colors were all earth tones, the colors of autumn, but the scene depicted the first snowfall, with the rider and horse being buffeted by swirling snow and a cold wind. The rider was clearly Tanner, and the painting was stunning – and from the technique and the use of color, Kate was sure it had been painted by a woman.
Experienc
ing a sharp, unpleasant twist, she moved closer to see the signature. The signature was clear, and Kate straightened, startled by her discovery. Eden McCall. The half sister Rita had mentioned. The half sister who had gifted her father's bastard with a stunning piece of work, and the half brother who clearly valued the gift. Kate studied the painting for a long time, then entered the bathroom to collect the towels.
It had obviously once been a small bathroom, but the dark brown ceramic tiles, the refitted window, the Jacuzzi tub and the large opaque-glass shower indicated a fairly recent renovation. It was very modern, very uncluttered and, somehow, very Tanner. Aware of his presence around her, she picked up the towels and went back into the bedroom, determined to keep her mind on what she was doing. Dumping the towels on the rug, she went to the bed and stripped off the plain navy comforter and navy top sheet.
She froze, a galvanizing heat pumping through her when she saw the stain on the bottom sheet. Clutching the top one against her chest, she closed her eyes, remembering how it had gotten there and why. She waited until her pulse settled, then resolutely finished stripping the bed. Gathering everything up, she went out into the hall and pushed the bedding down the laundry chute. She would vacuum and dust his room; she would make his bed with fresh linen and clean his bathroom, and she would try not to think about last night. Nor tonight. She would be a mess in seconds if she did.
By afternoon the sky had nearly cleared, and for the first time in days there was real warmth in the sun. Cyrus showed up right after Burt woke up from his afternoon nap, a cribbage board in one hand, a big bouquet of tulips in the other. He handed Kate the tulips, then swept off his battered Stetson and hung it on a hook. "I figured you might enjoy these, Miz Quinn. There's an old patch down by the bunkhouse that don't, usually amount to a hill o' beans, but for some ornery reason, they decided to do something with themselves this year. Probably because it's been an ornery spring. They're kinda bright and cheery, ain't they?"
Kate wiped her hands on her butcher's apron, then looked at the flowers. She could tell by the depth of color and size of their blossoms that they didn't come from some neglected patch but from a well-tended garden. Cyrus covering his tracks again. She breathed in the fragrance, then met his gaze and smiled. "Thank you so much, Cyrus," she said huskily. "They're lovely."
He gave her an offhand shrug. "Now, I rightly don't know what you can find to stick 'em in. Old Burt and Tanner ain't exactly the type to have fresh flowers delivered regular."
Kate grinned at him, fully appreciating his frank humor. "I'll find something. And if I can't, I can always stick them in Burt's water jug."
Cyrus grinned back at her. "That'd put a kink in his tail, that's for sure. But it'd give him something to rant and rave about, instead of laying there just chipping away at things."
In the back corner of a top cupboard, Kate found an old two-quart stoneware crock that had to be eighty years old. The metal parts of the wooden handles were rusted, but the lid was still intact, and she suspected it had been used to store butter. She cleaned it up and placed the flowers in it, then put them in the center of the table. It couldn't have been more perfect for a ranch kitchen. Cyrus came for a coffee refill as she was standing back admiring it.
"That looks right pretty there, Miz Quinn. Sorta fits right in. Jest like you do."
Startled by his comment, Kate shot him a quick look, but his expression was as innocent as a baby's. Too innocent, as a matter of fact. But in spite of that, or maybe because of it, his comment touched her. "Thank you for bringing them, Cyrus. It was really sweet of you."
He gave her a sheepish grin. "Well, now, ma'am, I'm right tickled that they please you. There's a hardiness in tulips I rightly admire. They get on with growin', no matter if there's a spring blizzard or poor soil, or even if they've been neglected. They just got this powerful need to grow and blossom. Figured tulips were your kind of flower somehow."
Stunned by his perceptiveness, Kate stared at him, a funny flutter unfolding in her chest. Without looking at her, he replaced the coffeepot, then returned to Burt's room, leaving behind a strange silence. Kate stood unmoving, a nearly unbearable cramp taking hold of her throat. Trying to short-circuit the ache, she polished away a dusting of pollen on the table with the corner of her apron, wishing this was more than a place to hide, wishing that her life wasn't such a mess. Wishing that Tanner was there.
Kate managed to keep herself busy for the rest of the afternoon, and it wasn't until she started getting supper ready that she began having a major problem keeping her mind from wandering. Every time she thought about Tanner coming in for supper, she got weak and flushed and her insides tied themselves in a million knots. She was beginning to wonder how she was going to be able to manage it when he did come home; just thinking about it was almost more than she could handle.
Needing a distraction, she fixed a cranberry and ginger ale drink for Burt and poured a fresh cup of coffee for Cyrus, then took the beverages in to them. Scotty was out cold on the cot under the window, and Mark was sitting cross-legged beside Burt, holding his cards for him. It gave her a funny feeling, knowing how the two boys naturally gravitated to the crusty old man, and how he egged on their shenanigans. It had become a conspiracy of kindred souls, an allegiance that bridged the generations.
Cyrus looked up, an obvious twinkle in his eye. "Well, now, Miz Quinn. That's what I call perfect timing. I've pretty well humiliated myself here, so being handed an excuse to fold my hand and lean back is mighty welcome. And that coffee smells fine."
Kate smiled as she handed the coffee across the bed to him. "Somehow I don't think you ever really needed an excuse for anything, Cyrus."
Burt snorted. "Need an excuse? He is an excuse. Never saw such a sorry excuse for a card player in all my life. Couldn't give a dead man a decent game."
Cyrus unwrapped a flavored toothpick and stuck it in his mouth, then rocked back in his chair. "Now, Burt," he said, the twinkle in his eyes intensifying. "That ain't hardly fair. After all, I couldn't very well whip you when you're so sickly and all."
Burt gave him a fierce glare, and Kate could almost see the wheels spinning in his head. His eyes glinting with mischief, Cyrus eyed him over the rim of his cup, then wiped his mustache and set the mug on his knee, turning his gaze to her. "There are some mighty fine smells coming from that kitchen, Miz Quinn. I set a pot of stew to simmer afore I came up, but after a spell, a man gets to appreciate someone else's cooking."
Kate thought about his blatant maneuver to let her know that he had a meal already prepared for the men. She thought about how much she didn't want an audience when Tanner came home. And then she thought about the beautiful bouquet of tulips that he had forfeited out of his garden. She also noted the sudden brightness in Burt's eyes. Helping Burt with his drink, she relented. "If that's the case, why don't you stay and have supper with us?"
Tipping his head in acceptance, Cyrus grinned at her. "Well, now, thank you, ma'am, I was hoping you'd ask."
Burt snorted, his testy expression almost camouflaging the sly glint in his eye. "Hoping? You've been laying snares all afternoon. You'd stoop to herding sheep to get out of eating your own cooking."
Cyrus turned his attention to his old friend, an undercurrent of humor in his voice when he responded. "Well, now, I reckon that's true. Especially when there's such a pretty lady doing the cooking. Makes the digestion all that much easier."
Wanting to laugh, Kate gave Cyrus a scolding look. "Someday you're going to get indigestion from all that charm, Cyrus. Especially if you keep laying it on so thick."
Her retort tickled Burt to no end, and he cackled and winked at Kate, his eyes sharp with delight. "You'll do, Kate Quinn. You'll do."
Kate gazed down at him, then very carefully wiped his chin. Her voice wasn't quite steady when she answered, "So will you, Burt Shaw. So will you."
Kate had the table set and Cyrus was wheeling Burt out of his room in the wheelchair when Tanner finally showed up. He'd entered
the kitchen, mud caked on his jeans, his black hair flattened from the crown of his hat, and Kate could tell by the lines of fatigue and the set of his jaw that he'd had a bad day.
He had some papers in his hand, and his expression wasn't exactly one of delight when he looked from Burt to Cyrus to the carefully laid table, then back at her. His face was expressionless. "Don't wait for me," he said, his tone curt. "I'm going to have a shower first."
Kate stared at him for an instant, her stomach nose-diving, then she dragged her gaze away and began placing some hot pads on the table. She tried to keep her voice steady when she answered. "It's not quite ready, so you've got a few minutes."
Burt asked about the road, and Tanner gave him an equally curt answer, then Kate heard him climb the stairs. She tried not to let his reaction bother her, tried not to acknowledge the sinking feeling in her abdomen. He was tired and irritated, that was all. But the awful knots in her stomach told her there was more to it than that.
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
Supper wasn't quite the strain Kate had thought it would be. When Tanner came back downstairs, she was so busy getting food on the table that she didn't have time to think about his reaction, so she was able to handle it. Almost. Every time he spoke, her insides would go into a twist and she would feel as if her stomach had no bottom.
It helped that the boys were all wound up over the novelty of having Burt and Cyrus at the table, and then there was a brief shoving match over who got to sit beside their best friend Burt. Before Kate had a chance to intervene, Cyrus made the comment that he would be right honored if one of them would sit by him. The boys both figured Cyrus was right up there next to God, and there was another loud debate over that. When they finally got to the table, Cyrus had Mark by him, and Scotty was beside Burt, making quiet bombing runs with his dinosaur. Kate set the mashed potatoes down, confiscated the dinosaur, gave Scott a warning look, then took the seat on the other side of Burt. The men immediately launched into a discussion about the flooding, and Burt, distracted from the indignity of being fed, ate far more than he usually did. Kate decided she would have to do this more often – get him out with the rest of them at mealtimes.
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