by Tina Leonard
That hadn’t stopped him from admiring the view of her in a pair of worn jeans, or the way her ponytail curled over her collar, or the bright blue of her eyes, which seemed even bluer in the clear, cold air.
Today she was bundled up in a puffy jacket, knitted hat and thick leather gloves, protection against the cold. It had snowed overnight and the horses made tracks through two inches of fresh snow. Duke found himself glad they weren’t doing this later in the season. If the weather held, tomorrow was going to be chilly but clear.
They came up out of the gully and there it was—a small bunkhouse, probably not more than four or five hundred square feet, a shed, a longer, rectangular building that Duke figured was the cookhouse and a rough-looking but sturdy shelter that fronted a fenced corral.
It looked abandoned.
Chatter got louder as they entered the yard in front of the biggest building. Carrie circled around and came to the back, trotting up beside him, a big smile on her face. “This is it,” she called out. “What do you think?”
He wasn’t sure what to think. Twenty years ago these buildings hadn’t even been on the property. They looked to be in decent shape, but they looked lonely, too.
“I don’t remember this. I didn’t realize the ranch had grown so much.”
“We’re not a huge operation, but we hold our own, and having the river base makes sense. It gets more use in the summertime. Not the cookhouse, so much. But the bunkhouse. It’s a bit on the small side, but if we have to be down here for some reason, it gives us a warm and dry place to stay.”
She smiled at him, the first real smile he’d gotten out of her since last week’s parting. “The river’s not far, and the fishing’s good. It was built for ranch business, but it makes a good getaway for a few days, too.”
“Do you ever need to get away?” he asked. “Seems to me with all this wide-open space, a getaway might involve something a little more refined than fishing and sleeping on a saggy cot.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” she suggested, and dismounted. “Hey, Jack,” she called out. “If you’ll look after Sage for me, I’ll get the place unlocked and the heater started up.” She reached into her pocket and took out a key.
“It’s locked?” Duke hopped down from his mount—a black gelding named Badger—and clutched the reins in his hand as he followed her.
She shrugged as she took a single step onto a porch and fit the key into the lock. “It keeps the honest people out. You never know who might end up out here.”
“What if someone got stranded or lost?”
The door swung open. “Actually, we keep the bunkhouse unlocked. All that’s in there is an old foldout couch and a woodstove. If you want to look after Badger, I’ll meet you back in here. I want to get the heat going.”
It took several minutes for Duke to make sure Badger was comfortable, and then he took his saddle roll and stepped inside the cookhouse. It certainly wasn’t fancy—simple construction and wood floors—but it was big. Heavy tables and benches made a line down the middle of the room, ending halfway. The other half of the room held foldout cots topped with gray-and-white-striped mattresses. There was a propane heater and a galley-size kitchen, where Duke could see a propane stove and icebox.
“Wow. This place is bigger than it looks outside.”
Carrie laughed, the sound echoing to the bare rafters. “It won’t feel so big when there’s ten of us sleeping in here together. Jimmy snores. Did I remember to tell you to bring earplugs?”
He laughed, too. He’d spent enough time in barracks to be immune to that sort of thing.
Carrie continued talking as she lit the propane stove. “One of these days it’s going to need a new roof and some repairs. Things are getting a little creaky.”
He stomped off his boots and then stepped farther inside. “Why didn’t Joe look after that?”
“It was on his list for next year. He was an old man, Duke. He didn’t have the energy that he used to.”
She started taking off her jacket. The heater was working and the air immediately around it began to warm. “Put your roll on a bed,” she suggested. “Boss man gets first dibs.”
“What about the foreman?”
“I already picked mine.”
Sure enough, her roll was sitting atop the bed closest to the heater. Smarty. “I guess that gives me second dibs,” he countered, and dropped his roll on a nearby cot.
A few of the men enjoyed a smoke outside before coming in, while others entered, dropped their rolls and took time for a nature break. Duke stayed inside with Carrie. She set out paper plates and bowls, plastic cutlery, paper cups and napkins while Duke manhandled two pots and put them on the flaming burners. Carrie had said that in the past, Joe had supplied the men with sandwiches and coffee the night before the drive, but he wanted to have something more substantial. He’d put on his chef’s hat and put together a huge batch of chili, and he’d bought bags of buns at the bakery. Tonight the men would come inside and have a hot meal and then in the morning there’d be a feed of bacon and eggs before they headed out to move the herd back to the main ranch.
He lifted a lid to give the chili a stir. When he put the spoon down, he caught Carrie watching him. “What?” he asked.
“I’m impressed. I never pegged you as a cook.”
“You haven’t tasted it yet,” he pointed out.
“It smells good.”
“The thing with chili is that it’s okay I made it Wednesday night. It’s better if it sits for a day or so.”
“It might make for loud bed partners tonight,” she joked, waggling her eyebrows. She went to work slicing and buttering buns to go with the chili.
Duke watched her and wondered what it was like to be the sole female in a crew of men. It didn’t seem to bother her, but he knew for a fact that men could be rough. He hadn’t needed to be in the army very long before he realized that manners didn’t matter much.
“Do you ever find it difficult?” he asked, watching her put the buttered buns back in the bag.
“What’s that?” she replied, putting the cover back on the margarine container.
“The guys. I mean you’re like one of them, but you’re a lady.”
“Are you saying I’m not qualified, Duke?”
“Not at all.” He’d been watching her all week, learning from her. She was smart and she was dedicated to the ranch, put up with no nonsense but knew how to have a laugh. “The men like and respect you. I just wondered if you personally find it a challenge.”
“Not at Crooked Valley. Sometimes elsewhere, though, when I’m dealing with other operations or new people at the stockyards. I try to work it to my advantage.”
He nodded. “I’ve been watching and learning the past few weeks. I don’t know a lot about the ins and outs of raising cattle, but I can see that you know what you’re doing. Quinn thinks a lot of you.”
“Quinn’s a good guy. Smart, easygoing but fiscally conservative. I’ve heard Joe say that when times got tight, it was Quinn who saved the ranch from being hit as hard as it might have been. You couldn’t do better for a teacher.”
Duke took a step closer to her. “Funny,” he said softly, his gaze drawn to her full lips. “He said the same about you.”
“Duke...”
“I know.” He didn’t move away, even though he heard the warning in her tone when she said his name. “The problem is, I can’t get last Friday out of my head. I don’t know why.”
“Because I turned you down?”
He laughed, enjoying her bluntness. “Maybe. You definitely left me wanting more.”
“Which we both agreed would be a mistake.”
“So you haven’t been thinking about it?”
He watched her cheeks color. She didn’t need to say the words for him to have hi
s answer.
“Here’s the thing,” Duke mused. “I stopped because you asked me to. And because you’d been drinking and I didn’t want you to come back and accuse me of taking advantage.”
Fire lit her eyes. “I wouldn’t do that! I knew exactly what I was doing.”
He knew that. The way she’d taken control in the truck had been enough for him to realize she knew her own mind.
The men were still out on the porch. Duke could hear them talking and laughing, and he took the opportunity to move even closer to Carrie. “What are we going to do about this, then?” he asked softly, lifting his hand a smoothing back a piece of her hair that had come loose from her low ponytail.
“This what?” she asked, but her voice took on a breathy quality that made his blood run faster. It was the same husky tone she’d used when she’d told him to scoot over on the seat—just before she’d straddled him.
“This,” he answered, and moved the last few inches to kiss her.
There was a moment of surprise where her mouth froze beneath his, but then she thawed, leaning into the kiss. He found himself grateful that she was a forthright woman, because there was no shyness in the way she kissed. She met him halfway, molding her lips to his, meeting his tongue with her own. Desire roared through him as he reached out and pulled her close against his body.
There was a loud thump outside the door and a burst of laughter and they jumped, pulling apart.
“You have to stop doing that!” she hissed, frowning and taking a step backward. “What if one of the guys walked in? You say I’m respected with the crew, but how do you think that would hold up if they thought I was messing around with the hot new boss?”
“You think I’m hot?” He smiled a little. When they were in an enclosed space like this, he didn’t have any trouble hearing her or watching her lips. It was strange how watching her mouth form the words made them clearer somehow. Only inches separated them. She was crystal clear. And she’d definitely called him hot.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“That’s what you said.”
“Stir your chili so it doesn’t stick to the bottom.”
He chuckled. “We’re not going to be able to ignore it forever, you know. But you’re right. We should probably keep it private. For appearances.”
“Duke. We can’t do this.”
He met her gaze evenly. “Give me one good reason why not. And don’t say because you work for me. We’ve covered that.”
Consternation twisted her features, and she reached out and grabbed the wooden spoon, lifting one of the lids and stirring the contents of the pot. Duke reached out and covered her hand with his. “One good reason,” he insisted.
She stared up at him, but remained silent.
“That’s what I thought.”
He turned away, but she reached out and grabbed his arm, making him turn back again. “I can give you three. Because we’re too different,” she answered, her mouth tight. “Because you don’t even know if you’re staying. And because I have enough to lose without getting involved with you, too.”
The door to the cookhouse opened and two of the men stomped in, rubbing their hands together and talking, preventing Duke from responding. Not that he knew what to say. He retreated to the other side of the kitchen and took a heavy plastic container of cookies out of a storage box. As everyone eventually made their way inside, Duke filled a huge kettle with water and put it on a back burner to heat for coffee.
She was right. He didn’t know what the future held and it was frustrating. Carrie simply didn’t understand that in a split second, his choices had been taken away. He’d lost half his hearing and he’d been handed a medical discharge. He hadn’t wanted the ranch but it had been put upon him anyway, and now he was responsible for it. No one had bothered to ask what he wanted. It just was, and by God from now on he’d do the choosing—including whether he stayed or not.
Carrie put on her jacket and claimed she had to use the facilities.
She was trying to get away from him, but it wouldn’t work for long. The attraction between them was too strong, and more than once Duke had had the feeling that they could both use the release. Carrie was wound pretty tight and so was he. Several times he’d had the feeling he was building up a head of steam and one of these days it was going to erupt.
But that wasn’t going to happen tonight. Besides, there were eight other men who were going to be crammed in the cookhouse on army cots. Not as if they’d have any privacy.
“Okay, boys, come and get it,” he called out. The resulting clamor as the crew lined up for chow made him feel strangely at home. He missed the army. Missed his old life. Maybe for tonight he should just be glad for the chance to revisit that feeling for a little while.
* * *
CARRIE TRIED TO keep her movements quiet inside her sleeping bag. It made the tiniest rustle as she shifted her weight. As far as she could tell, she was the only one awake this early. It was still full-on dark outside, but the moon illuminated the room in an angled beam through the back window of the cookhouse. There was just enough light for her to make out Duke’s face, restful in sleep, on the cot across from her.
She’d watched him most of the evening. The smile that had been so reluctant at the bar came easier out here as the men talked and joked with each other. The food had been tasty and there’d been some good-natured teasing about keeping him on as a cook if the boss thing didn’t work out. Duke took it all in stride, and he had an endearing way of turning his head to the right just before he laughed. It was, as Joe would’ve said, Duke’s tell.
Now he was sound asleep, and she thought back to the kiss they’d shared today. It troubled her. Every time they got too close or touched, Carrie felt as if she was going to combust. Duke didn’t make it easy either, asking stupid questions.
Like demanding one good reason why they shouldn’t explore what was between them.
A week ago, maybe it would have been safe. Maybe she should have just gone through with it then and got Duke Duggan out of her system. But she hadn’t. Instead he’d brought her coffee. Bought her breakfast. Asked for her advice and help. She’d seen him work around the ranch, swallowing his pride and honest to goodness learning from everyone from Quinn down to the part-time teenager who came in after school to work in the horse barn.
He made chili. Played cards with the guys by lamplight and laughed when he lost.
He wanted one good reason? She liked him too much. She liked Duke a whole lot, and sleeping with him would only make it more likely that she’d get hurt. At first she’d thought he was the solution to all their problems. But now...she could see he was troubled. It was in the strange moments of silence and the sober expression on his face when he thought no one was looking. There was more going on with Duke than she suspected most people realized.
She shifted again, but Duke never moved.
Dawn was beginning to lighten the sky when more of the crew began to stir in that peculiar restlessness that happened just before waking. Carrie was just about to swing her legs over the side of the cot and turn the temperature up on the heater when an eerie sound crept out of the darkness.
Coyotes. Dammit.
“You hear that?” a raspy voice whispered from a few cots away.
“Yeah, I heard,” she whispered back. “I hope they’re not hunting.”
“Strange for this time of year. The calves aren’t babies anymore.” It was Tim’s voice, one of the guys from Triple B.
“You folks been having any trouble over at your place?”
“Not so much.”
The howl echoed again, followed by some yips and more howling. “I’m hoping moving the herd closer to the main house will solve the problem,” she admitted. “Once a coyote gets a taste he keeps coming back. I should’ve started trapping two weeks ag
o.”
Jack sat up on his cot. “The noise is coming from down by the river. Crap.”
Carrie let out a breath and crawled out of the warmth of her sleeping bag. There was more quiet shuffling as the other hands woke.
All except Duke. His head was tucked onto his left hand, and he slept on, oblivious to the noises around him. It was as though he couldn’t even hear the howling or the sounds of the nylon sleeping bags.
Considering she’d been awake since five, she envied him the ability to sleep so soundly.
Now that almost everyone was up, someone turned on a lamp, and shuffling sounds riffled through the space, along with the odd zipper of a jacket or pack. Carrie was just shoving her arms into a flannel shirt when Duke’s eyes opened and he stretched his arms over his head. Her gaze was drawn to his long arms and curved shoulders, still in a T-shirt, but it didn’t do much to camouflage his physique. Carrie looked away and focused on buttoning the shirt over the tank top she’d slept in.
“What’s going on?” His voice was gritty from disuse and sexy as hell.
“Coyotes down by the river. The howling woke most of us up.”
“I must’ve slept soundly.” His gaze skittered away from hers as he responded. He unzipped his sleeping bag and crawled out.
He’d removed his jeans and had slept in his long underwear—not the thick thermal kind either, but tight-fitting athletic wear in solid black. The fabric skimmed and clung to the muscles in his legs and she tried not to stare. Then he stood up, gave a little hobble and winced.
She managed a chuckle. “Long ride yesterday, huh.”
He nodded. “Longer one today.”
“You’re going to need a long soak in a hot tub by tonight,” she warned him, grinning. “Tenderfoot.”
He reached for his pants at the foot of his cot, the motion putting them slightly closer together. “You joining me?” he asked quietly, his voice low and intimate.