Cattleman's Courtship

by Lois Faye Dyer

  In retrospect, the life she’d lived in Seattle seemed sterile, without color. Removing herself from her rigid, restrictive routine had forced her to look around. In the years since she’d left college and begun her career, she’d somehow forgotten how much she enjoyed getting to know people. Now that she’d been reminded of the richness of life, she was no longer convinced that becoming a partner in a law firm was worth the cost. Especially after the unforgettable moments she’d spent alone with Quinn.

  But I love the challenge of practising law, she reflected. So where does that leave me?

  She could apply for a position in a smaller law firm with a lighter workload, she thought, and perhaps change the focus of her practice to general instead of specialized.

  Or I could open an office in Colson.

  The idea had been lurking in her subconscious for days. Still, consciously acknowledging the thought was startling.

  Where did that come from? I can’t stay in Colson—my life is in Seattle.

  But the possibility was enticing. She’d never seriously considered that she may be able to have a career, a husband and a family. She’d decided early in law school that she must choose between career and a husband. There were too many object lessons in the ruined personal lives of successful attorneys she’d met, both men and women, for her to ignore.

  You’re building castles in the air, Victoria, she told herself. Even if you don’t return to Seattle, there’s no guarantee that your future holds a husband and babies.

  Because she knew without doubt that a husband meant Quinn. And he’d given no indication that marriage was in their future. Quite the opposite, in fact, for he grimly denied any possibility that he would ever become a husband and father.

  Still, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t remain in Colson and build a different life for herself than the one that waited for her in Seattle.

  The possibility of a richer life was tempting. The only part of the equation that remained a question mark was Quinn.

  Quinn did Becky’s evening chores, shared dinner with her and was home before eight o’clock. Cully looked up from the television and stared at him in surprise when he stalked into the living room.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here.” Quinn dropped into his leather recliner and flipped up the footrest, crossing his booted feet at the ankle.

  “I know you live here,” Cully said patiently. “But you haven’t been here too often since Victoria moved in with Becky. Why aren’t you over there?”

  “I was over there. I had dinner with Becky and came home.”

  “You had dinner with Becky? What about Victoria?”

  “She went back to Colson. Doc okayed a cane for Becky and she sent Victoria home.”

  “Ah. I see.” Cully was silent for a moment. “So, why aren’t you in Colson at Victoria’s place?”

  “Because I’m not,” Quinn growled, staring morosely at the flickering television.

  Cully lifted the remote control, pointed it at the TV and muted the sound. Quinn glared at him.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “It was too loud. I couldn’t hear you telling me why the hell you’re here moping in front of the TV instead of at Victoria’s.”

  “I’m not moping.”

  “Yeah, right.” Cully’s tone was patently disbelieving. “If you’re not moping, then what the hell is wrong with you? You look like somebody died.”

  Quinn didn’t answer.

  Cully leaned forward in his chair, his gaze searching his brother’s face. “I’m serious, Quinn. You don’t look too good. What happened with Victoria?”

  “Nothing happened. I’m not going to see her again.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Why not? Come on, Cully. You know why not. A woman like Victoria deserves a better man than me. She needs a husband, and kids…” Struck with the swift mental image of a little boy with Victoria’s smile and blond hair, his voice trailed off.

  “So? Marry her.”

  Cully’s words jolted Quinn from distracting thoughts of Victoria and blue-eyed babies.

  “Bowdries don’t have marriages,” Quinn said flatly. “They have war zones. I…care too much about Victoria to ruin her life.”

  “Damn it, Quinn.” Exasperated, Cully pushed out of his chair and paced. “Listen to yourself—you ‘care’ about Victoria? I hate to be the one that breaks the news to you, but you’re stone-cold, climbing-the-walls nuts about the woman. You may not be willing to admit it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  “True or not, how I feel about Victoria doesn’t matter.” Quinn said. “She has a life in Seattle, a life that’s important to her, with a career she’s spent years building. What could I give her to replace that? Tell me, Cully, what would she do in Colson? She’d be bored out of her skull if she had to spend a long winter with me on this ranch.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Cully shrugged. “But none of that matters in the long run. Face it, Quinn. You’re going to have to marry her or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  Quinn opened his mouth to argue with Cully, but his brother’s next words stunned him into silence.

  “Just like Dad did.” Cully’s stance dared his older brother to argue, but Quinn only stared at him. “You know it’s true, Quinn.” Cully said quietly. “Dad’s life with Eileen was bitter and unhappy—for both of them. Dad never got over our mother disappearing without a word; he kept detectives looking for her until the day he died. I think it broke his heart to lose her, and that’s why his marriage with Eileen was so bad. He couldn’t forget our mother, and Eileen couldn’t forgive him for it.”

  The silence stretched between them.

  “You know I’m right, Quinn. If we really are like our father, and God knows I’ve heard Eileen say it often enough, then you’d better try to make it work with Victoria, because you’ll never be able to let her go.”

  Quinn released the footrest and sat forward in the chair. He scrubbed his hand wearily across his eyes and down his face.

  “Hell.” He propped his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped between, and stared at the floor. He’d already come to suspect that part of what Cully said was true—he wasn’t going to easily get over Victoria. The feeling had been growing steadily stronger for days until he was convinced that letting her go would be the hardest thing he’d ever done. For the first time, he allowed himself to consider the possibility that he could have Victoria forever.

  And he realized that the reason he’d denied the possibility so strongly was that he wanted it so badly.

  “I never thought about marriage, and I don’t know a thing about kids, Cully.” Quinn waved his hand at the room. “I guess I assumed I’d live my life here without it.”

  “How does Victoria feel about marriage?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

  Cully dragged in a deep breath, blowing it out in a huff of disgust. “Why not? Becky and I made sure you had plenty of time together.”

  Quinn’s gaze sharpened over his brother’s irritated features. “What do you mean you made sure we had plenty of time together?” For the first time, he realized how odd it was that Cully hadn’t spent more time with the injured Becky. Nor had there been a stream of women friends visiting her. “Explain yourself. What did you and Becky do? Did she plan this on purpose?”

  “No.” Cully shook his head in swift denial. “And even if she had, I wouldn’t have let Becky hurt herself just so she could play matchmaker. But once she had Victoria in the house, she didn’t waste the opportunity. She ordered me to stay away and made excuses to her friends that visitors were too tiring for her.”

  Quinn’s brows shot up. “And they bought that?”

  Cully grinned. “Yeah. Can you believe it? They’ve got to know that Becky has the stamina of a horse.”

  “They probably didn’t believe her. I’ll bet the telephone wires are buzzing with wild stories.”


  “Nope, Becky convinced the Doc to tell Flora Anderson that Becky had to have absolute bed rest and quiet.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” A quick grin curved Quinn’s mouth. “I wonder how she talked Doc into that?”

  “I don’t know, but I suspect it had something to do with a winter’s supply of her strawberry jam.”

  Quinn chuckled. “She’s a pistol, isn’t she?”

  “Yup, that’s our Becky.” Cully pushed away from the heavy console television he leaned against and returned to his chair. “So,” he asked, offhandedly. “What are you going to do about Victoria?”

  “I don’t know.” Quinn only knew Cully was right. But the possibility of acting on his feelings both exhilarated and scared him.

  Victoria mulled over the questions about her future often during the ensuing days. Saturday found her no closer to a solution. Since she didn’t work weekends at the pharmacy, she planned to spend part of the day unpacking the few boxes still stacked, unopened, in the corner of her kitchen. Several pictures still leaned patiently against the bedroom wall, waiting for her to purchase wire and nails to hang them.

  Dressed in khaki shorts, a midriff-skimming loose tank top in blue cotton and huaraches, she strolled the few blocks between her apartment and downtown Colson. The midmorning sun was warm, heating her scalp and her bare arms, legs and feet. In sharp contrast, the local hardware store was dim and cool, fans high above in the rafters stirring the morning air with lazy efficiency. Victoria slipped her sunglasses from her nose and dangled them from her fingers, narrowing her eyes to adjust to the sudden switch from bright sunlight to dim store interior.

  She wandered up and down aisles, finally locating the nails and wire necessary to hang her paintings and family photographs.

  Then she puttered slowly on her way to the checkout counter, browsing the aisles. The old wooden floor creaked beneath her feet, the counters and shelves jammed with a fascinating variety of hammers, saws, nails and screws piled in bins that were cheek-to-cheek with kerosene lanterns and leather harness.

  Shopping in Colson is certainly different than shopping in downtown Seattle, she reflected. Curiosity had her picking up, studying, then putting back a half-dozen interesting objects before she finally reached the cash register. The hardware store was busy and she waited patiently in line before she paid for her small purchases.

  “Thank you—come visit us again.”

  “I will, thanks so much.” Victoria smiled at the brawny man in the smudged apron behind the counter, collected her bag and turned away. Two steps from the counter, she glanced up to find Quinn striding down the aisle toward her. He was dressed in dusty boots and jeans, with the ever-present gray cowboy hat on his head, and his mouth was set in a firm line, his green eyes narrowed.

  He didn’t look happy to see her.

  She was delighted to see him. She decided that now was as good a time as any to test Becky Sprackett’s theory.

  “Good morning.” She stopped dead still in the middle of the aisle, blocking his way.

  Quinn didn’t have an option. He either had to shove her aside, ignore her and pointedly walk around her, or stop and return her greeting.

  He stopped.

  “Good morning.” He eyed her, his tone carefully polite.

  “I dropped in for picture wire and nails,” she said sunnily, waggling a small brown paper bag. “What brings you here?”

  Chatting. He realized in disbelief. She’s chatting. One swift glance past her shoulder told him that the dozen or so men loitering near the counter and the aisles nearby were watching them with undisguised interest.

  Great, just great. If I’m rude to her, she’ll be embarrassed and it’ll be all over town in an hour.

  “I needed to pick up a part for a generator.” He stepped aside and paused, glancing meaningfully behind her before his gaze returned to hers. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Startled, Victoria blinked at him. One swift look over her shoulder at the obviously interested audience waiting for her reply erased her confusion.

  “Oh. Right.”

  She stepped past him and walked down the aisle, pausing at the entrance, her breath hitching as Quinn bent close, his shoulder and arm brushing hers as he reached around her to shove open the door.

  Then she stepped through, Quinn followed, and the door swung closed behind them.

  Quinn caught her arm and drew her with him off the sidewalk and around the corner of the hardware store into an empty lot. He stopped in the shade of the roof overhang, out of sight of the street, and turned her to face him.

  “What were you doing in there? Didn’t I tell you that you shouldn’t be seen in public with me?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Then why did you say hello to me and stop to chat in front of half of Colson.”

  “I hardly think a dozen men can be called half of Colson,” Victoria protested mildly, crossing her arms across her chest. “Besides, I don’t agree with you.”

  “What do you mean you don’t agree with me?”

  “I mean,” she said pointedly, “that I don’t agree that I’ll be labeled a fallen woman just because I’m seen talking to you.”

  Quinn bit off a swearword and glared at her. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

  Victoria arched a brow in patent disbelief. “Oh, and you’re not, I suppose? You’re convinced that my being seen with you is the kiss of death to my reputation. I think you’re overreacting.”

  “Hell.” Quinn planted his hands on his hips, his brows lowering. He decided to be painfully blunt. “Look, Victoria, all I do with women is have sex. Period. And everybody in this town knows it.”

  Victoria didn’t even flinch; she just frowned back at him. “And you’re proud of this?”

  “I didn’t say I was proud of it. That’s just the way it is. If you’re seen with me, all of Colson will assume that we’re sleeping together whether we are or not. You won’t have an ounce of credibility left with the women in this town, not to mention your aunt and cousin. Do you want to have to explain to your uncle why everyone’s gossiping about you?”

  “I still think you’re overreacting,” Victoria argued. “I like you, and I refuse to pretend that I don’t. Don’t you like me?”

  “Yes,” Quinn said through clenched teeth, keeping a tight rein on his frustrated temper. “I like you. I also want to carry you off to the nearest empty bed and spend the next twelve hours making love to you.”

  Victoria caught her breath. The heat that blazed from his eyes and his blunt honesty struck her speechless. The mental image of their two bare bodies wrapped together in the isolation and privacy of a bedroom generated a swift yearning that flooded her with heat.

  Quinn saw the shock at his blunt words in her expression, followed swiftly by arrested curiosity and the slow stirring of heat. He groaned.

  “Damn, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you…” He bit off another pithy swearword and swung on his heel.

  “Wait!” Impulsively, Victoria caught his shirt-sleeve, halting him in midstride.

  He turned to look at her.

  “What?” he growled. The touch of her fingers against his forearm burned his skin and he shrugged free, immediately regretting the loss of contact.

  She crossed her arms over her chest once more. The movement drew his gaze to the blue T-shirt pulled taut against her breasts and he nearly groaned aloud, again. He stifled the instant leap of his libido, forcing his attention back to her face. She narrowed her eyes at him consideringly.

  “It’s obvious the solution to this problem is for us to date.”

  Dumbfounded, Quinn could only gape at her.

  “What?”

  “I said,” she repeated, emphasizing each word, “that it’s obvious that we’ll just have to date.”

  “Are you deaf? Didn’t you hear a word I said?”

  “Of course I heard you. You told me that you never date, which makes our dating the perfect solution, of cour
se.”

  “Of course,” Quinn repeated blankly. He shook his head to clear it. What was he missing here? “Do you mind explaining how you arrived at this idiotic conclusion.”

  “If the whole town knows that you never take a woman out on a normal date, then it’s logical to assume that if we date, all of Colson will realize that it’s a complete departure from your usual behavior. Ergo, they won’t assume we’re sleeping together, which is your usual behavior.”

  Quinn listened to her, wondering if craziness was contagious, because for some insane reason, she was starting to make sense.

  “It won’t work.” He said grimly. “Much as I wish it would.”

  He turned and walked away from her. Two strides. Three.

  “It’s too bad you’re so afraid of me.” Her voice carried clearly.

  Her words stopped him in his tracks.

  “Because if you weren’t afraid of me,” she continued, “we could have had a lot of fun.”

  Victoria held her breath, wondering if he’d respond. He stood perfectly still for one long moment while she stared at his broad back and silently urged him to turn around. Then he slowly turned on his heel and stalked toward her. One glimpse of his furious face and she wondered if she’d gone too far. She had only seconds to wonder before he stopped in front of her.

  He towered over her before he bent slowly forward until his nose nearly touched hers, the brim of his hat shadowing her face.

  “What did you say?”

  The question was no less lethal for the controlled, quiet tone of the words he ground out. Victoria noted the muscle that flexed in his jaw and barely controlled an urge to step back.

  “I said,” she responded with admirable calm, “that it’s too bad that you’re afraid of me because if you weren’t, we could have fun this summer.”

  His eyes narrowed, green flames flickering in the depths.

  Victoria ignored the inner voice that told her to run. Instead, she managed to stand her ground and meet his hot gaze without flinching. “You know, Quinn,” she drawled, “I haven’t known any boys that were too shy to ask me out since junior high school. I would have guessed that you were far more mature than that, but…” she sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Clearly, I was wrong.”