Fortune's Prince

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  Amelia watched her drive away, then jumped a little when Quinn appeared around the side of the house.

  He was wearing a white T-shirt covered in sweat and dirt, multi-pocketed cargo shorts, heavy work boots and had a tool belt slung around his lean hips.

  And he still needed a shave.

  She felt heat gather inside her and dug her fingernails into her palms as a distraction.

  It failed miserably, particularly when he spotted her hovering there on the front porch. It felt as if his gaze saw right through her dress to the sum total of nothing that she wore beneath it.

  She pulled the strap that kept slipping off her shoulder back into place and snatched up the bag of clothes that Jeanne had delivered. “My aunt played personal shopper,” she said.

  The top rail surrounding the porch was chest high to him and he dropped his arm over it before tipping back the bill of the ball cap he wore. Throwing up in front of him may have been excruciatingly embarrassing, but it had served to break some of the tension.

  At least he didn’t have accusation clouding his eyes every time he looked at her.

  “Guess you’re wishing you’d have had her do that in the first place,” he said

  The bag crinkled in her fingers. “It would have been easier,” she allowed. The memory of the way his T-shirt had torn the night before taunted her, and she focused instead on the dirt covering the one he was wearing now. “What, um, what have you been doing?”

  He lifted his arm off the rail again and tilted his head. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Surprised by the invitation, she squeezed the bag again. “I should, uh, probably change.”

  His lips quirked and he plucked his dirty shirt. “What for?”

  She dragged her eyes away from his chest. “Aunt Jeanne invited us for dinner later.”

  “Nice of her. S’pose you want to go.”

  “Christopher will be there. I haven’t seen him since Sawyer’s wedding over New Year’s. He’s engaged now.”

  “I heard.”

  It wasn’t an answer of whether he wanted to go. “So?”

  He smiled faintly. “I generally don’t turn down a meal cooked by someone else.”

  She didn’t know if she was relieved or not. But she left the porch anyway.

  He waited until she reached him before turning and heading away from the house and the barn and the antique-looking windmill beside it that stood motionless in the still summer air. They passed several pens, all empty and fenced in by round metal rails, following a path that was more dirt than gravel with a strip of grass growing down the center.

  He kept to the dirt part and puffs of dust rose around his sturdy boots as he went and he eyed her when she moved to the grassier strip and shook one foot then the other to get out the grit that had worked its way into her sandals.

  “These boots aren’t made for walking,” she said wryly.

  “I could toss you over my shoulder,” he deadpanned.

  She flushed and continued walking. “I don’t think so,” she said primly.

  He laughed softly.

  Something in her stomach curled, and it was not morning sickness.

  She stared ahead at the land. It seemed more covered in scrubby bushes and wild grasses than anything. And the horizon seemed to stretch forever. “Don’t you have fences to pen in your cattle?”

  “There’s fence. Just can’t see it from here.”

  “What about your horses?”

  “We’re getting there.”

  She moistened her lips. “It’s, uh, it’s very warm today, isn’t it?”

  He shot her an amused look. “Probably close to ninety. ’Bout average for this time of year. Be glad there’s air-conditioning in the house. The one I grew up in didn’t have it. Probably just as well that shack burned down. Made tearing down what was left easy.”

  “You told me back in April you were very young when it happened.”

  He shrugged. “Fifteen.” The hammer hanging from his tool belt made a soft brushing sound against his khaki-colored cargos with each step he took and she realized her steps had slowed, intentionally or not, allowing her an excellent view of his backside.

  She picked up her pace again, skipping a few times until she was level with him once more.

  He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Same year my dad died,” he added.

  She studied his profile. The night of Toby’s wedding, they’d talked about everything under the sun. But he hadn’t told her that he’d been married. Or that the fire had happened the very same year he’d also lost his father. “That must have been devastating.”

  “You lost your dad, too.”

  “And it was horrible,” she murmured, “but we still had a home.”

  “The Chesterfield estate,” he drawled.

  Her nerves prickled at his tone. “Yes.”

  He stopped. Propped his hands on his hips and stared out. “Lot different than this place, no doubt.”

  She continued forward a few steps and turned until she was facing him. “Yes,” she agreed. “But, like the Rocking-U, it has been in the Chesterfield family for generations. I understand ancestral ties to one’s land.”

  His lips twitched again.

  “What?”

  “Just listening to you talk, darlin’.” He shook his head. “Kills me.”

  She huffed. “There is nothing wrong with the way I speak. You are the one who’s all...all...drawly.” Had he really called her darlin’?

  “Drawly.” His smile stretched. “That some grammatical term they taught you in those fancy schools you attended?” He shook his head again, then started walking once more, brushing past her since she was standing right in his path.

  Wholly bemused, she turned and followed and shortly, the road began descending and she realized his house and his barn were positioned on the top of a ridge. “There’s a river!”

  “That’s like calling a mosquito an eagle. It ain’t a river, but it’s a decent creek. The Rocking-U always had water and thank God it still does since Texas has been drying up around our ears for too damn long.” He headed for the trees and the grass growing lush and thick alongside the glittering water.

  She hurried after him. Several horses were grazing contentedly, barely even giving a flick of their tails at their approach. “It’s beautiful down here.”

  He pointed at an enormous oak tree. “That is what I’ve been doing.”

  Confused, she walked toward the tree, feeling the coolness its shade provided. She had no idea how tall it was, but it was huge, with a trunk so wide not even Quinn could have circled it with his arms. “Pruning the tree?”

  “Nah. Nature prunes that beast. Even lost a couple limbs during a lightning storm when I was a kid.” He closed his hand around her upper arm and moved her around to one side, pointing up into the canopy above them. “You can still see the scar there.”

  She couldn’t see anything because her entire being seemed focused on the feel of his fingers. “Right,” she said faintly.

  “Figured I’d build it back up.”

  “Hmm?”

  He was still pointing and she mentally shook herself, looking. She saw the healed over slash on the trunk, nearly hidden among the leaves. And then she saw the pieces of lumber a few feet above that, forming the frame for a floor. “You’re building a tree house?”

  “Rebuilding.” He let go of her, circling the base of the tree where she realized he’d fastened fresh boards for a ladder. “The one my dad put up was about like everything he put up.” He looked wry. “Half-assed and half-done,” he murmured. “But the guy never stopped trying.”

  Quinn’s efforts were half-done, too, but that was the only comparison she could see. “I used to love climbing trees. I’d go as hig
h as I could and feel like I was flying. My mother didn’t agree. She used to send me to the nursery as punishment. Since I considered myself much too mature as a teen for that, it seemed a fate worse than death.” She eagerly placed her foot on the first foothold.

  “No way, princess. You’re not climbing up there.”

  She huffed. “I’m perfectly capable!”

  “You were perfectly capable of riding a bus all the way from Dallas, too, and look what state you were in once you got here.”

  He closed his hands around her hips and she went breathless, her nerves vibrating. But all he did was lift her away from the tree and set her feet on the thick grass. “You’re pregnant,” he added. “You’re not going up there. The floor isn’t close to being finished. What if you fell?”

  Her lips parted. Why hadn’t she realized that herself? “But I want to go up there.” She craned her head back and studied the tree house. It wasn’t complete, of course, but when it was, she could tell it would be magnificent. “I think you have a bit of Peter Pan in you.”

  His expression sobered. “I grew up a long time ago.”

  “Why are you build—rebuilding this now?”

  He looked back up into the branches. “It was a good place to be when I was a kid.”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek, watching him. “And you think it’ll be a good place for—”

  “Our kid.” His hazel gaze slid over her. “Yeah.”

  She was melting inside. There simply was no other description for it. “It’ll be years before he—”

  “Or she—”

  “—is ready for that,” she finished huskily.

  “Yeah, well, it’s also a good way to burn off some energy. And lately, I have a lot of—” He suddenly tugged the strap that had slipped from her shoulder back into place. “Energy.”

  Her mouth went dry and breathing became an effort. She stared up at him, feeling the warmth of him sliding around her, through her.

  “What’s this?” He dragged his finger along her collarbone where her skin was faintly irritated.

  Her heart lurched. “I think it’s, um—” She moistened her lips. “From your beard.”

  Something came and went in his eyes. He abruptly turned away and slapped his palm against the tree as he walked around it, heading toward the stream. “It’ll be a good tree house,” he said briskly.

  She actually felt herself sway and was glad he was looking elsewhere. She hauled in a soundless breath and pressed her hand to her heart, willing it to calm. She’d blame the effect he had on her on pregnancy hormones if she could, but he’d had the same effect on her from the very beginning.

  It’s the reason she was pregnant in the first place.

  “You coming?” He’d taken off his tool belt and sat down on the grass and was unlacing his boots. “Might as well cool off in the water for a few minutes.”

  She knew the water wasn’t deep enough to swim; she could see right through the crystal clear water to the rocky bottom.

  No skinny-dipping here.

  She held back a nervous giggle at the shockingly disappointing thought and started toward him, only to trip a little when he tossed his cap aside and pulled his T-shirt over his head.

  He glanced her way. “You all right?”

  She balled her fists in the folds of the dress at her sides and smiled brightly. “Just shoe... Just caught my, uh, my shoe. In the grass.”

  He looked away but not before she saw his smile and she knew she was turning as red as the borrowed, too-oft-worn dress.

  Pressing her lips together, she crossed the grass purposefully and sat down beside him. “Would serve you right if I whipped my dress over my head,” she said crossly.

  He laughed outright, tossing his T-shirt behind him. “Darlin’, if you’re expecting a protest from me, you’re dreaming. Unless you took to stealing boxers from my drawer, I know what all you don’t have on under there so feel free to get naked as a jaybird. No telephoto lens in the world strong enough to spot you out here.”

  Flushing even harder, she slid her feet out of the sandals and stuck them in the water. “Whoa!” She just as rapidly jerked them back. “Cold.”

  “Refreshing,” he countered, and tugged off his boots and socks. Then he stood and stepped into the creek. The water swirled around his strong calves, only a few inches below the bottom of his long shorts. “Come on.” He held out his hand and beckoned.

  “What if I slip and fall?”

  He smiled faintly. “I’m getting the sense you were pretty spoiled growing up. You’re the baby of the lot, right?”

  “Yes. And I was not spoiled,” she grumbled and pushed to her feet, stepping gingerly into the water, bunching the dress in one hand above her knees.

  After the initial shock, the water was possibly more refreshing than frigid, though she wasn’t going to admit it. She was glad for his hand, though, because the rocks littering the bottom of the creek were smooth and slick.

  “If you start to fall here,” he said calmly, “I would catch you.” He squeezed her free hand.

  And her heart squeezed right along with it.

  They walked quite a distance and he kept to the center of the creek which she quickly discovered was far less rocky and far more sandy and she was able to let go of his hand and walk unaided.

  When he finally stopped, he swept his arm from one side to the other. “All Rocking-U land right up to there.” He pointed. “That water tower over there is the eastern border.”

  She could see the structure well off in the distance across an expanse of unyielding looking red earth peppered with stubby trees, wild grasses in every shade from olive to straw, and lazy-looking cattle in just as many hues from yellow to black with horns that looked deadly even from a distance. And the blue sky overhead went on and on, without a single cloud in sight.

  In her mind’s eye, she pictured him on horseback, riding out there. Open and free. “It’s no wonder you came back,” she breathed. “Built your house. Built your herd.” She looked up to find him watching her.

  “This life isn’t for everyone.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was warning her, or remembering. In April he’d told her how his mother had been happy to leave this place. “Maybe your mum couldn’t bear staying after losing your dad.”

  “She wasn’t the only one who didn’t like it here.” He touched her elbow but she didn’t want to take the hint that it was time to turn back.

  “You mean your ex-wife,” she said instead. “She didn’t go far,” Amelia added boldly. “Jess told me she lives in Vicker’s Corners.”

  His eyes were narrowed against the bright sun. “Might not seem like it to you, but there’s a big difference between Horseback Hollow and Vicker’s Corners.”

  Yes. Horseback Hollow possessed a single main street with a handful of businesses, though that was already changing with the coming Hollows Cantina and Fortune Foundation office. For now, Vicker’s Corners, while still small and quaint, was considerably more developed.

  “I like Horseback Hollow,” she said evenly and sloshed her feet through the water, her toes squeezing into the sandy bottom as she started back the way they’d come.

  * * *

  For how long?

  The question stuck in Quinn’s head though he didn’t voice it. He watched her walking in front of him. She was holding up the dress, but the back of it had still dragged in the water below her knees, and it trailed behind her, dark and wet. Her hair was tangled around her shoulders that were turning pink from too much sun.

  Right now, she might want to be there.

  But she didn’t know how hard his life could be. Didn’t know that sometimes there could be as many bad years as good. That’s what had driven his dad to his early grave.

  Ahead of him, Amelia lean
ed down and swiped her hand through the water, then splashed it over her head.

  She looked young. And carefree and ungodly sexy.

  He blew out a harsh breath and leaned over, cupping water to throw over his own face. It was cold.

  But it wasn’t enough to douse the heat.

  It wasn’t ever going to be enough to do that.

  Chapter Ten

  “I was getting used to the red dress.”

  Amelia smiled ruefully as she entered the kitchen. Once they’d returned from their walk, Tanya was finished, so while Quinn paid the teenager, Amelia had gone upstairs to shower and change into the clothes that her aunt had procured for her while Quinn headed into the barn.

  “This isn’t going to fit me for long,” she told him now and twitched the skirt that reached her ankles. The light gray knit hugging her hips before flaring out loosely had wide black stripes angled across it and was much livelier than her usual taste, but she’d toned it down with a white T-shirt with a deep scooped neck and snug cap sleeves. She knew the second she developed a bump, it would show. “The sundress was roomy enough to last awhile.”

  He was sprawled at the kitchen table wearing jeans and a black T-shirt. He’d obviously used the downstairs bathroom to shower as well; his hair was wet and darker than ever. He’d also shaved.

  She nearly told him she’d been getting used to the ridiculously sexy stubble.

  “Not that it matters,” she blathered on. “I’ll have my own wardrobe soon enough.”

  He didn’t move, but his gaze sharpened. “Is it being shipped here?”

  She had the sense to realize she’d just stepped right into a minefield. All because she obviously couldn’t think sensibly when she was near him.

  “No,” she said cautiously. “But I can’t stay here forever.”

  “Here.” His jaw canted slightly to one side for a moment. “Rocking-U here? Horseback Hollow here?” His eyes narrowed and he rose. It was like watching a cobra uncoil. “United States here?”

  She stood her ground though the desire to back up was strong. “I do have responsibilities at home. I can’t avoid them forever.”