Cattleman's Courtship

by Lois Faye Dyer

  “Hah. Are you wrong.”

  “I’ll also bet that those older brothers are protective as hell, aren’t they?”

  “Now that part you’ve guessed right,” Victoria conceded. “In fact, it’s closer to the truth to say they’re aggressively overprotective.”

  Quinn’s lips quirked upward. He picked up his wineglass, sipped and returned it to the white tablecloth. His assessing gaze never left hers. “That’s probably also why you think you’re safe with me. No one’s ever harmed the woman with three older brothers to protect her.”

  “It’s true that no one I’ve dated has ‘harmed’ me,” Victoria agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that I’ve never been hurt. I had my heart broken when I was only thirteen.”

  “Yeah?” A swift surge of protectiveness hit Quinn. “By who?”

  “By a sixteen-year-old cowboy.” Victoria watched with amusement while Quinn absorbed her words.

  “A cowboy? In Seattle?”

  “Not in Seattle. In Colson.”

  “Here?” Quinn leaned forward, his fingers gripping the stem of his wineglass. “Who was he?” he demanded.

  Victoria chuckled and leaned closer. “That was years ago, Quinn, it’s too late to punch him.”

  Quinn realized that he was considering just that. “No wonder your brothers were aggressive,” he said repressively. “If you were this difficult at fifteen, I’m amazed they didn’t just lock you in your room and bar the door. Tell me his name.”

  Victoria looked at the determined glint in his eye and the stubborn set of his chin and gave in. “His name was Chuck Barrows. He was sixteen at the time and as it turned out,” she added dryly, “a real jerk. Of course, I didn’t think so at the time.”

  “I know the Barrows family. And Chuck’s always been a jerk. What did he do to you?” Quinn wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he was sure he needed to hear the whole story.

  “In retrospect, not much. Are you sure you want to hear this?” she asked skeptically.

  “Positive. Tell me.”

  “Oh, all right,” she sighed. “I was visiting Lonna the summer I was thirteen. I wore braces, my body was as straight up and down as a flag-pole, and although I’ve never been shy, I found myself completely tongue-tied around Chuckie. I could hardly say hello without stammering.”

  “And Chuckie?”

  “Oh, well,” Victoria laughed, remembering the sixteen-year-old Lothario. “He didn’t stammer, didn’t wear braces and I thought he was Prince Charming. As it turned out, so did all the other girls in Colson and Chuckie thought he was God’s gift to women.”

  “So how did he break your heart?” Quinn had already decided that if Chuck Barrows had laid a hand on her, he’d personally track him down and make him pay.

  “Lonna and I took turns helping Uncle John at the pharmacy that summer. Chuck started hanging around. Paying attention to me, teasing me.” Victoria waved a hand dismissingly. “You were once a sixteen-year-old guy, you know the routine.”

  “No. I don’t.” Quinn’s voice was tight. “When I was sixteen, thirteen-year-old girls were off-limits.”

  Victoria’s smile warmed. “Ah. But you were a good guy. And Chuckie was clearly not. To make a long story short, he caught me in the alley behind the chutes at the rodeo grounds and grabbed me.”

  Quinn swore under his breath.

  “Before I could stop him, he stuck his tongue down my throat…”

  “I’ll kill him.”

  His fierce, soft-spoken threat eased the tightness in her chest that always gripped her whenever she thought of that hot August night. “You don’t need to,” she assured him. “I bit him.”

  Quinn’s mouth dropped open, his eyes widening. “You bit him?”

  “It was pure reflex. But he let go of me so fast I almost fell. He yelled as if I’d killed him.” Victoria’s smile slipped. “I ran all the way home. The next day I was mopping floors for my uncle at the pharmacy when I overheard him laughing with his friends about how moonstruck I was. At first I was mortified, then I lost my temper and emptied the bucket of dirty water over his head.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Then I went home to my aunt’s house and cried my heart out.”

  “Well, hell.”

  Victoria tipped her head sideways and eyed him with interest. “That’s exactly what my brother Sam said when my mother told him what happened.”

  “He probably wanted to punch the guy for being such an insensitive jerk,” Quinn growled. He looked away from her warm gaze and picked up his knife and fork. “So,” he said, keeping his gaze on the steak, “how long did it take you to get over Chuckie?”

  “I didn’t.”

  Her soft words brought his head up with a snap.

  “What do you mean, you didn’t?”

  “I never forgot the lessons I learned that day, so in a sense, I never got over Chuckie.”

  “And what was the lesson?” Quinn asked cautiously. “That all men are scum?”

  Victoria laughed. “No—although I have a few women friends who firmly believe in that theory. No, the first lesson I learned is to be wary of cowboys.”

  Quinn wondered briefly if it was really too late to track down Chuckie and make him pay for breaking her heart. “And the second lesson?”

  “Ah. The second lesson I learned is that it doesn’t matter how good or bad a man looks on the outside, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And it doesn’t matter what other people say about him,” Victoria continued. “It’s what he does that matters. A person can’t know that unless she observes for herself.”

  “Yeah?”

  He sounded skeptical.

  “Yeah,” she echoed, mimicking his disbelieving drawl. “Take you, for instance. You keep telling me what a bad guy you are, but everything you do tells me the opposite.”

  His lashes lowered, green eyes inscrutable.

  “There’s something I’m doing that tells you I don’t want to strip you naked on the nearest bed?”

  Victoria flushed. Heat flooded her from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

  “No. I’m convinced that sex is on your mind. But I’m also convinced that if you were a man with no conscience, you would have tried to maneuver me into that bed days ago.”

  “If you were another kind of woman, or you were anyone but John and Sheila’s niece, I would have skipped maneuvering and hauled you off to bed two days after I met you.”

  “But a man without conscience wouldn’t care what kind of a woman I am,” Victoria said simply. Her curiosity piqued, she abandoned any pretense of eating. “And why does it matter whose niece I am?”

  Quinn wished he hadn’t voiced that comment.

  “John and Sheila did me a favor once. I owe them. I can’t have an affair with their niece.”

  Victoria searched her memory but couldn’t recall her aunt and uncle, nor Lonna, ever mentioning a favor in connection with Quinn Bowdrie. In fact, she couldn’t remember a conversation in which Quinn’s name had generated anything other than general comments or casual knowledge from her uncle John nor her aunt Sheila. Yet Quinn inferred that there was something important between them. What could it be?

  “What kind of a favor?”

  “They helped me with something a year ago.” Her blue eyes lit with curiosity and Quinn groaned silently. “I can tell by the look on your face that you won’t give up until I explain, but you have to give me your word that you won’t repeat what I’m about to tell you.”

  Victoria promptly raised her hand. “I swear,” she said solemnly.

  Quinn’s lips quirked. “You didn’t need to raise your hand, this isn’t a courtroom.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Get to the story, Bowdrie.”

  “It was nearly a year ago, and I’d had dinner late one night at the Grill. Driving home, I almost hit a car that was parked halfway onto the shoulder with the left rear in the traffic lane. To be h
onest, I stopped to chew out the driver for doing something so dangerous but I found a sobbing woman inside. Her face was bruised, her lip bloody. She’d found out earlier that day that she was pregnant but when she told her lover, he slapped her around. Seems he was married and hadn’t told her,” Quinn said grimly. “She was just a kid, too scared to tell her folks, and I couldn’t convince her to see a doctor. She wasn’t making a lot of sense. I finally talked her into letting me take her to your uncle’s house because she knew John and Sheila through church. Sheila doctored her bruises and her lip, then I drove her to Missoula to her aunt’s house.”

  “And gave her enough money to have the baby and get back on her feet?” It was an instinctive guess, but Victoria knew by his swift surprise that she’d guessed right.

  “How did you know?” he asked. He’d never told anybody about finding Angie Patterson, let alone about the monetary help he’d given her.

  “I didn’t, not for sure. But I’m right, aren’t I?” she said softly, her gaze searching his face. “This is Angie Patterson you’re talking about, isn’t it? And when the rumors flew that you were the father of her baby and had paid her to go away, you didn’t deny them because the truth would have been worse for her.”

  “There are always rumors floating around about me.” Quinn didn’t deny her analysis. “It didn’t bother me that there was another one circulating.”

  Stubborn man. She sipped her wine and watched him over the rim of her glass. A surge of genuine affection caught at her throat. He keeps insisting that he’s no white knight. But he keeps doing the most honorable things.

  Quinn glanced at his watch.

  “I thought we’d catch a movie after dinner,” he glanced at her plate. “Are you about through?”

  “Yes.” Victoria ignored her plate with its neglected meal. She’d been far too interested in Quinn to pay attention to eating.

  “More wine?” He lifted the carafe but lowered it when she shook her head. He slipped several bills into the waiter’s folder and rose to pull out her chair.

  Several more couples stopped them to say good evening as they wound their way through the tables toward the exit. Each time, Quinn introduced her and each time, Victoria was struck with the pleased approval she read on their faces. Although Eileen was aggressive about her dislike of him, some of Quinn’s neighbors were clearly glad to have an opportunity to demonstrate their pleasure to see him among them.

  Theatergoers’ reactions were repeats of the diners at the restaurant, mouths dropped open, heads turned, people stared. Again, warm grins and nods of approval were evenly mixed with frowns and disparaging glances that quickly followed.

  Ticket stubs in one hand, his other resting at the small of Victoria’s back, Quinn stood in line behind her as they waited for the usher to open the lobby doors. The top of her head reached his chin. He dropped his head forward slightly, just enough to brush his lips against the silky curls and breathe in the scent of musky, faintly oriental perfume. The urge to slip his arm around her waist and pull her back against him, to fit the sweet curve of her bottom against his hips and bury his face against the seductive curve where her throat met the bare curve of her shoulder was nearly overpowering.

  “Hey, Quinn.”

  He jerked, glancing quickly behind him.

  “Henry. And Dorothy. Nice to see you.”

  “Hello, Quinn.” The young couple had their two children with them. The little boy stood next to Henry, solemnly eyeing Quinn while the little girl squirmed in her mother’s arms, struggling to get down.

  Victoria glanced over her shoulder and her hair brushed the underside of Quinn’s chin.

  “Hello.”

  She smiled easily at the parents and winked at the children before she glanced up at Quinn.

  “Victoria, this is Henry and Dorothy Atkins. Henry and I are both members of the Stockmans’ Association. Folks, this is Victoria Denning.”

  “Denning—of course.” Dorothy’s gamine face lit with a wide smile. “You’re Lonna’s cousin, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, that’s right. Are you a friend of Lonna’s?”

  “We went to high school together,” Dorothy laughed. “Most everyone about the same age in Colson went to high school together.” Her gaze darted to Quinn before she met Victoria’s once more. “Is that where you met Quinn?” she asked with transparent curiosity.

  Quinn stiffened and Victoria glanced up at him. His grim gaze met hers in warning but she smiled, mischief twinkling in her blue eyes before she shifted, turning to face him. She leaned against his chest, her fingers stroking down his cheek before she lay her hand, palm down, against the white shirt right above his pounding heart. Her cheek rested against his chest for one brief moment while she gave him a quick hug. His arms lifted in an automatic reflex, and he returned the gesture.

  “Goodness, no,” Victoria laughed. “I met Quinn at the Crossroads Bar when he saved me from a lecherous man.”

  “Really?” Dorothy’s eyes widened at Victoria’s words, her gaze quickly absorbing the ease with which Victoria nestled against Quinn’s chest—and the possessive claiming of Quinn’s arm wrapped around her. She exchanged a quick, satisfied glance with her husband. “Now that’s romantic. Henry, why haven’t you ever saved me from a lecher?”

  “What’s a lecher?” The little girl asked.

  “Okay, honey,” Henry said dryly. “You get to explain this one.”

  “Hmm. Thanks.”

  The line ahead of them started to move. Quinn turned Victoria around and pushed her gently into motion.

  “Enjoy the show.” She peered around him to call.

  Quinn heard Dorothy cheerily return the wish before he handed the tickets to the usher, received the stubs back and hustled Victoria into the dim theater.

  “Why did you tell her that I saved you?” He asked as soon as they were seated in the back of the theater.

  “Uh-oh. Did I tarnish your wicked reputation with rumor of a good deed?” she teased.

  “Hell, no,” he said shortly. “But it’s not true. Beckman can be a real pain, but he wouldn’t have actually harmed you.”

  “Perhaps not, but I didn’t know that, did I? And besides, you saved me from a huge amount of irritation and possible assault charges.”

  “Assault charges? Nah, he wouldn’t have gotten even close to assault.”

  “Perhaps not,” she agreed, her face solemn. “But if he’d grabbed me one more time, it’s likely I would have punched him and that’s assault.”

  Quinn stared at her blankly before amusement curved his mouth and lit his eyes.

  “Beckman outweighs you by at least eighty pounds,” he commented.

  “Probably.” She nodded and narrowed her eyes consideringly. “But I know karate.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Absolutely.” She lifted her hands. “These hands are lethal weapons.”

  He caught one wrist in his hand and held her hand still while he fitted their palms together. His much bigger hand dwarfed hers.

  “Lethal weapons, huh?” he huffed in disbelief. “That’s the littlest damn lethal weapon I’ve ever seen.”

  “Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a little.”

  “Hmm.”

  The lights dimmed to full dark and the screen came alive. Instead of releasing her, Quinn laid her hand palm down on his thigh, his own hand trapping hers against his slacks and the hard muscle beneath.

  Victoria settled closer, her shoulder tucked against his. “You know,” she murmured. “For a man who’s so worried about his bad reputation, you certainly have a lot of friends. And all of them seemed genuinely pleased to see you tonight.”

  He didn’t answer. Victoria glanced at his profile, illuminated by the light from the flickering screen.

  “Maybe you’re wrong about what people think about you, Quinn.”

  “Maybe.” He glanced down at her. “Now be quiet and watch the movie.”

  Victoria hid a small smile of triumph and obeye
d.

  It was just before midnight when Quinn walked her to her door.

  She fumbled with her key, managing at last to insert it, twist and then push the unlocked door inward. She hesitated before turning to face him.

  “I had a lovely time tonight, Quinn.”

  “I’m glad.” Quinn leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. She’d left a lamp on inside the living room and the soft backlight haloed her, gleaming softly against her hair, illuminating half of her face as she turned to face him and casting mysterious shadows over the other half.

  “Was it as bad as you thought it would be?”

  He considered her words for a moment, surprised that with the exception of moments when he’d steeled himself to meet hostility and censure, he’d been surprised and somewhat dazed by the number of people who demonstrated genuine friendliness.

  “No, it wasn’t.” He mentally shelved confusion about his neighbors’ reaction and focused on Victoria. “It was worse.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Worse?” Startled, she searched his face. How could he have missed the outpouring of acceptance from the people they’d met. “But…why?”

  “Because it’s tough spending time with you and knowing that the evening’s going to end with a cold shower.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh,” he repeated softly. He trailed the backs of his fingers down the curve of her cheek to her throat, pausing to toy with the narrow band of green silk. He pushed away from the door frame, cupped her bare shoulders in his palms and tugged her forward. “Come here.”

  Victoria went willingly. She, too, had waited for this moment all night. Although she’d purposely treated him with familiarity to demonstrate to anyone watching that Quinn was a man she was comfortable with, she’d found it to be a double-edged sword. Holding his arm, spontaneous hugs, all had fanned the embers of the fire lit when he kissed her hello early in the evening. The need to have him hold her had smoldered all evening.