Kelton's Rules (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Nicholson, Peggy

  And if this sudden sweet ache in his chest meant it was time he looked for company, well, Durango was full of safer prospects. Single women who’d yet to have their romantic illusions shattered. Longtime divorcées who’d swept up the marital breakage, then returned to the game with no hard feelings. Women who knew what they wanted.

  But for no reason he could put his finger on, none of those women called him like the woman next door.

  Entering his own house, he found the air warm and stale, smelling faintly of this morning’s burned toast. Kat must have been out and about all day, searching the town. But by now she was probably over at Abby’s; at least that was the first place to look. He changed to a pair of well-worn jeans and a T-shirt with a sigh of relief, exchanged his office boots for sneakers, and sauntered next door.

  “’Lo the house! Anybody home?” He rapped on the back screen door.

  “J-Jack?” Abby’s voice came faintly from a distance. “Is that— C-could you—?”

  The quaver in her call sent him bounding through the kitchen. He halted in the door to the living room with a grunt of astonishment.

  Hugging the wagon wheel chandelier for dear life, Abby teetered on a tilted chair, which she’d stacked on top of the couch, which she’d somehow pushed into the center of the room. She turned her head as far around as she could, showing him a flash of wild green eye through a storm of disheveled hair. “C-could you…”

  “Jumping Jehosaphat, woman!” The chair must have tipped while she was changing the light bulbs. He gripped her waist with both hands—and an electric thrill sizzled up his arms. Slenderness and warmth, his for the taking.

  Her hands were frozen tight to the wagon wheel. “I c-couldn’t jump after the chair moved. I was afraid if I landed wrong on my ankle…”

  He laughed with the absurdity of it all, with the sheer pleasure of holding her. “How long have you been hanging around?” Waiting for me?

  “Oh-hh, five years or so. I didn’t notice the time till I slipped, and after that…”

  Long enough to leave her with every muscle shaking. Sewing-machine leg was what rock climbers called it. “You could let go now,” he coaxed her. “I’ve got you.”

  “Mmm,” she agreed earnestly—and managed to pry one forefinger loose. “I guess it’s been half an hour, maybe?”

  The best way to override her fear of falling was to lift her straight up, five inches or so. “Then we’re outta here.” She weighed just enough to make his muscles swell and flex, to set his heart slamming in his chest.

  She squeaked as she rose toward the ceiling, but at last she released the chandelier. A bulb came loose, bounced off his shoulder and smashed on the floor. “Oh, I’m sorry!”

  “No problem.” The only problem was his self-control. He wanted to pull her in, lower her inch by inch along his own body, suddenly achingly alive. Bruise her mouth with his own when they came level, till she moaned and wrapped those long legs around his waist.

  Hell. One touch and he’d advanced from arm’s length attraction to urgent lust.

  Still, let him succumb to that fantasy and Abby’d grow more claws than her tomcat, something told him. Her eyes had widened with alarm and she’d caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  He brought her to the ground with a chaste six-inch margin between them. “There you go, safe and sound.” But only just. To damp down his own rioting instincts, he scowled. “And just what the hell did you think you were doing?”

  Though he should have foreseen this when she’d asked him last night to bring her twelve sixty-watt light bulbs along with her gallon of milk…

  “I can’t bear fluorescent lights,” she said, on her dignity as she retreated a step…and her knees gave out.

  “Easy!” He caught her halfway to the floor and swung her over onto the couch. “Sit still for a minute, will you?”

  At least for now, she had to obey him. While she sat, kneading the cramps out of her legs, he brought her chair down to the floor and stood on it to change the remaining bulbs. “Seen the kids?” he asked, trying to keep his eyes off those graceful hands sliding along slender thighs.

  “Not since this morning, although they’ve been terrific about checking in. In fact—” She glanced toward the kitchen. “That must’ve been them a while back. My phone rang, but I couldn’t…”

  “They’ll call again.” That was the one bit of training he’d successfully drilled into Kat’s stubborn skull—stay in touch. “I take it the cat hasn’t shown up?”

  Mournfully she shook her head and he wished he could hug her. If she’d been divorced even a year he might have risked it. But raw as she was? Forget it. He walked into the kitchen and found a broom and dustpan in the pantry. “I see you’ve been busy,” he said as he swept the shards of broken bulb into a pile. She’d mopped the floor, scrubbed the kitchen walls and grubby cabinets. “But how could you bring yourself to lose that poster?”

  She’d replaced the snow-boarding babe on the fridge door with another sketch of her tomcat. This one was as wonderful as the first, a dizzying perspective looking straight up the tree trunk, with DC-3 staring dolefully down at the viewer.

  Abby made a face as wry and comical as her cat’s. “The snow bimbo? It finally hit me why I hated her so much. She reminds me of my ex’s new wife.” Her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink as their eyes met. Then she looked abruptly away, swallowing hard.

  He cocked his head and waited for her gaze to come back to him. Gave her a quizzical smile when it did. “He’s remarried already? That was fast work. How long had you two been divorced?”

  Her eyes dropped to her fingers, twining around each other. “It’s been final since March. But he’d already found her, months, maybe a year before… That’s why I…when I realized…”

  A rat and a fool. Abby deserved so much better than that.

  “And she’s…pregnant!” she said in a tragic whisper.

  “With his child?” Jack prodded, just to be sure.

  She nodded too many times, then added, “Children. She’s expecting…triplets.”

  “Triplets!” He couldn’t help grinning. “Well, there’s some justice in the world, after all!”

  She flashed him a look of wounded astonishment. “What do you mean?”

  He dropped on his heels before her and collected her hands. “You really think your wandering boy, when he asked her out for that first friendly drink, was hoping to quadruple his offspring? Picturing potty-training times three? Wanting an extra three kids to put through college—all at once?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Believe me, your ex’s looking back on the good old days and wondering what hit him.” Having second thoughts. All the regrets in the world.

  But suddenly Jack didn’t want Abby following his line of thought. She was well rid of that relationship. No use encouraging her to wonder if the jerk might still change his mind—which he might. Jack had seen plenty of boomerang spouses in his practice. It was just another kind of divorce craziness. Men and women driving each other to distraction, clueless about what they really wanted or needed.

  “All right, then.” He squeezed her hands and let her go. “That chandelier took eight bulbs, so what death-defying plans did you have for the other four?”

  AFTER THE PARK, Kat led Sky up the opposite slope from the creek, zigzagging along bird streets toward the north side of town. A gray pickup stopped to let them cross Blue Heron, and the cowboy behind the wheel tipped his hat at them and smiled.

  Kat gave him a narrow-eyed, vicious glare and stalked on, chin high, shoulders stiff.

  “Who was that?” Sky asked, staring after the pickup as it drove away. A big black and tan Airedale rode in back, leaning wistfully over the tailgate with his stump tail wagging.

  “That’s Anse Kirby from Suntop Ranch. He burns calves.”

  “Burns them!” Sky pictured a flaming pile of cows.

  “Brands them with red-hot metal. It isn’t right and I told him so, but
he just laughed at me and kept on doing it.”

  Maybe that’s his job? But Sky only said, “So where are we headed?” Kat always seemed to have a plan.

  “To the house Dad and I are building. The cottage next door to yours? We’re only renting that till we finish our real place. Dad wanted a view of the mountains.”

  And he’d gotten it. On an unpaved lane, a big lot sloped up to the top of the ridge that sheltered the town from north winds. Miles beyond it loomed the mountains, a wilderness of red and purple fangs in the late-afternoon light. If DC had wandered in that direction, he was gone forever.

  Low, gnarled trees dotted the property and a house foundation had been poured. “It used to be part of an apple orchard,” Kat told him. “We picked half a bushel last fall when we bought the place.”

  “Cool.” Sky scanned the unmown meadow for a scrap of moving white. He turned on his heel to stare back down the valley toward town. He’d felt good for a while there, catching and then releasing the fish, but now… DC. Kitty, kitty…oh, kitty. Last night was the first night he’d slept without the tomcat since he chose him at the pound as a tiny kitten two years ago. Twice he’d woken with nightmares of DC in trouble, lost and needing him. Please, please let him be back, purring on my pillow tonight!

  “And that’s my dad’s toolshed where I was weld—” Kat paused, and Sky turned to see where she was staring. “Somebody’s up there!”

  “A cat?” he demanded as she caught his sleeve and pulled him along.

  “Uh-uh. Somebody peeking at us…” Kat gasped in outrage. “It’s Sam Jarrett!”

  A boy a few years older had come out from behind the metal shed. Out swaggered a second kid, even larger than the first, or maybe it was only his cowboy boots and hat that made him seem so. Pretending to ignore Kat and Sky, they wandered over to the house foundation and vaulted up onto its plywood decking to sit, swinging their legs, facing the mountains.

  “They shouldn’t be here on our property,” Kat fumed, stalking up the rutted driveway.

  “Um, maybe we should…” But she wasn’t listening. Sky shrugged and followed.

  “Sam Jarrett, what d’you think you’re doing here?” Kat marched straight up to the pair.

  The blond one grinned at her, struck a match on the zipper of his jeans and lit the cigarette he held between his lips.

  Kat planted her hands on her skinny hips. “Well?”

  Sam blew out a plume of smoke. “Me and Pete just stopped by to see if you’d really burned the place down like we heard.”

  “Huh! You’re the one who’s going to start a fire, smoking on our property. You’re trespassing, you know.”

  “Gonna arrest us, Kat?” Sam grinned at his companion.

  She gave him a snooty shrug. “Maybe not. Maybe I’ll just tackle you myself and throw you off my land.”

  The boy in the hat let out a hoot of delight. “Yeah, Jarrett, and she can do it, too!”

  Sam turned red as a brick. “The hell she can! That last time was nothing but dumb-ass luck.”

  Sky had no idea what they were talking about, but clearly it was time to change the subject. “Hey, have either of you seen a white cat?”

  Cowboy Hat smirked. “I hear there’s a reward out on him. A hundred dollars?”

  Sky nodded warily. It was too much money, he’d thought, when his mom decided on that amount. He’d cost her too much already, wrecking the bus. “Yeah.”

  “That’s good.” The kid grinned from one stick-out ear to the other. “But can I collect dead or alive? ’Cause I caught the critter this morning and skinned him.”

  “You’re a liar!” He had to be lying! Sky lunged at him and bounced off his outthrust palm. “Liar! Jerk!”

  Kat caught his arm and tugged him back. “Of course the creep is lying! What would you expect from a guy who’d stick his tongue in ol’ Marylou’s mushy mouth?”

  “His tongue!” Sam Jarrett whooped and fell blissfully backward on the flooring. “You tongued ol’ Marylou?”

  “Shuddup, Jarrett!” Cowboy Hat stuck his finger in Kat’s face. “And you, midget, what were you doing—spying on us the other night?”

  Kat crossed her arms and tipped up her chin. “Yup, till I got bored—and that sure didn’t take long.”

  “You’re the guy Mr. Kelton threw out of his house,” Sky realized.

  “Who’s this four-eyed runt?” the cowboy demanded.

  Four Eyes. Oh, Sky had had enough of that back in Jersey—too much! And what if Kat was wrong? What if this creep really had caught DC and—

  “His name’s Sky,” Kat declared. “And his dad’s a pilot with American Airlines.”

  Didn’t she know anything about when to keep her mouth shut?

  But it was too late now. The cowboy smirked and came in for the kill. “Oh, yeah? So what if he is? Ol’ Four Eyes here’ll never get off the ground. It takes twenty-twenty vision to fly a plane.”

  A blow straight to the heart. Sky staggered—then came in swinging. It was either cry or attack. His first wild punch clipped the jerk’s nose. The second knocked off his stupid hat.

  JACK HAD INSISTED on changing the fluorescent bulbs in the kitchen, even though Abby tried to tell him she could do it herself.

  “Now what else?” he asked, stepping down from a chair.

  “That’s plenty. Truly all I need.” She’d always been shy about asking for help, and her years with Steve had made her more so. She’d rather fend for herself a thousand times over than nag, and he’d never remembered her requests if she didn’t repeat them again and again and again.

  “What about that couch? Shall I put it back where it was?”

  “Well, actually I was going to…” The living room was her next project, now that the kitchen was minimally habitable, but she’d do it later, in blessed privacy. She was still feeling flustered from Jack’s rescue, still feeling the warmth and strength of his hands on her body. He’d looked so odd and fierce there for a moment as he’d held her above his head, and she’d felt so…totally out of control, with her feet dangling.

  Getting her life back under control was what this trip west was all about. Standing on her own two feet. Depending on no man, not even one as kind as Jack seemed to be.

  “You were going to start rearranging,” he guessed with a grimace. “Ooo-kay.” He preceded her into the living room. “What first?”

  “Jack, you don’t need to do this.”

  “Of course I don’t. But since I’m killing time till the kids show up…”

  As easy to stop a train with a flyswatter. Abby sighed and gave in. “All right, then, this carpet’s a disaster. If we rolled it up, could you carry it out to the toolshed?”

  Half an hour later he’d patiently moved the couch to four different positions. Finally she’d realized the pleasing place wasn’t parallel to any wall but in one corner on a diagonal, with the shabby little pine coffee table in front of it. Then the La-Z-Boy went near the fireplace with the antique brass floorlamp beside it.

  “Feels much more roomy,” Jack observed, surveying their results. “So now what? Upstairs?”

  “No! I…” She didn’t want him up in her bedroom. This room was twice the size of that and yet he made it seem small. Her eyes lit on the stuffed elk head. “That monstrosity, it’s got to go.”

  “You’ll break your poor landlady’s heart. Maudie’s father shot him back in ’52. Nobody in Trueheart’s taken a rack like that, before or since.”

  “If you want a dead animal in your house, you’re welcome to him.”

  Jack smiled and shook his head. “She offered him to me last fall, and it took all my considerable tact to turn him down. But maybe I should put on a flea collar before I touch the mangy brute.”

  Abby limped along purely out of sympathy while he lugged the dusty horror to the shed. They were walking back up the drive when their missing offspring turned in from the street.

  “And high time,” Jack noted. “My cardinal rule is that Kat’s alway
s home by dark. I was going to suggest that I take you guys out to Michelle’s Place for—” He cocked his head. His brows pulled together. He left her side at a purposeful walk, then broke into a jog.

  What now? Abby wondered, hurrying in his wake. Then she gasped as the children’s rueful faces grew clear through the gathering twilight.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ABBY WAS CURLED UP asleep in the La-Z-Boy when a light tapping roused her. “Jack?” She stretched, started to rise, then paused as he cracked open the front door.

  “Blast. Sorry to wake you.”

  “Not at all.” She rubbed her fists through her lashes and leaned back to study his face. “I must’ve just dozed off.” Unlike Kat and Skyler, he hadn’t come home battered and bruised, as she’d half expected. “Did you find Sam Jarrett’s father?”

  At the sight of his daughter’s black eye and skinned knee, Jack had gone on full-testosterone, outraged-father overdrive.

  He’d sent Kat straight to bed, ordered—not asked— Abby to watch her for him, then roared off into the night, declaring, “Nobody—but nobody—punches a kid of mine!”

  That had been hours ago Abby saw now, glancing at her alarm clock, which she’d placed on the mantel. It was after ten. All evening she’d been listening for the sounds of sirens or gunshots. Who’d have thought that such a temper lurked beneath Jack’s easygoing smiles? “So you two didn’t come to blows? The way you left here, I was worried that…”

  Jack dropped onto the couch across from her. “The Jarrett ranch is twenty-five miles northwest of Trueheart by gravel road. By the time I’d bounced out there—and changed a flat along the way—I’d had a chance to cool down.”

  “I’m glad. I was afraid you’d slug Sam Jarrett’s father, and next thing I knew, we’d be smack in the middle of a range war.”

  “Mmm.” Jack rubbed a hand across his jaw, which was showing a faint sexy shadow of beard. “Kat’s not in her bedroom, so I take it she’s here?”