What would it be like to really belong here? she wondered, as she went to the workroom to straighten the furniture and pick up the last of the bits of yarn that had been left behind. And what would it take? She loved the sense of closeness in the community, despite the fact that everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business. She and her mother had belonged to their own community, of sorts, but there was an unspoken protocol that you never pried, regardless of where you were or who you were with.
A sound at the back door make her jump, her heart racing in her chest as she wheeled around—a fistful of double-pointed knitting needles from the table in one fist and a challenge rising in her throat.
“Whoever you are, I’m armed, so you can just let yourself right back out again,” she yelled in the direction of the door.
Another sound assaulted her ears. Something between a cough and a laugh. Seconds later, the doorway filled with tall, broad cowboy, and her heart accelerated just that little bit more.
“What do you suggest,” Booth drawled, leaning against the doorjamb with his strong arms crossed in front of him. “Needles at twenty paces?”
Willow sagged into a chair. “It’s you,” she said, her voice flat.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“No, I wasn’t expecting anyone. That’s why…,” she gestured with her hand, still clutched around the six-inch needles as if her life depended on them.
“Think you could put them down now, seeing as it’s me?”
She looked up and gave him an assessing glance. “Since it’s you, I should probably hold onto them.”
He laughed, the sound shocking her to the soles of her feet. Surly, Booth Lange was one hell of an attractive guy. Laughing? Well, that was a whole other kettle of desire and her reaction, a long slow sizzle from the top of her head to deep inside her body, left her breathless. Willow averted her gaze before he could get a hint of how he unsettled her, of how he left her turned on and aching, no matter how stern or off-putting he tried to be.
“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, getting up from the chair and crossing to the furthest side of the room to put the needles in their sleeves.
“Ness sent me ’round to pick you up.”
“Pick me up? Why?”
Beats me, his expression said, but his lips moved with a different response. “She wants you to join us for dinner.”
Whether the intonation on the word “she” was deliberate or not, it was quite clear that Ness wanted her to join them, and not him. Willow summoned the bravado she’d learned she needed when dealing with Booth. “No, thank you. I’m tired and I’m having an early night.”
Booth shook his head slowly. “I was told to accept no excuses. You’re coming with me.”
“And what? You’re going to make me?”
“I don’t make it a habit to let my sister down. Go get ready. I’ll be waiting in the truck.”
Willow was left staring at thin air where he’d been only seconds before. Muttering to herself about overbearing, obnoxious males, she stomped up the stairs to her apartment. “Get ready, he says,” she mimicked as she stripped off her clothes and stood, dressed only in her panties, deciding what to wear. “I’ll be waiting, he says,” she continued as she slipped into her patchwork skirt and pulled on the crocheted midriff top to go with it.
“Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir,” she chanted, working up a fine temper, as she tugged the scrunchie from her hair and brushed it out with hard swift strokes.
She folded a bandana and tied it around her forehead to hold her hair back and slipped her feet back into her boots. The dusty worn leather of the desert boots had earned her more than one odd look from a town that made cowboy boots normal street wear no matter what the weather. They would have to do, she thought as she headed back down the stairs again.
“Took your time,” Booth said as she locked the back door of the store behind her.
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before she turned around. She would not let him have the satisfaction of getting under her skin. She flashed him a smile in response and felt an inner sense of triumph as his eyes narrowed. Booth opened the door to his truck for her and waited until she’d ensured her skirt was free of the door before closing it, none too gently. Willow took in another deep breath before he climbed up beside her.
It made no difference. The second he was in the cab she was assaulted with the very maleness of him. His size, his scent—even the heat that seemed to pour off his body. She plucked at the front of her top and used the fabric to fan herself lightly.
“Hot?” Booth asked.
She had to swallow to moisten her mouth before she responded. “A little.”
He grunted and one broad hand reached out to flick the air conditioning on. She found herself mesmerized by his long fingers, her mind playing tricks on her imagining what they’d feel like playing across her skin. Her body responded immediately—her breasts feeling full and heavy, her nipples beading against the crocheted cotton of her top. It was just the cool air suddenly pouring from the vents, she tried to fool herself. It had nothing to do with the bossy male beside her.
Liar, a little voice whispered to her. You want him, be honest.
And she did. But wanting was one thing. Having was another entirely, and she had no wish to throw herself in the way of that particular mess. She was no novice. She knew attraction and desire and exactly what pushed her buttons. She also knew that tangling with a guy like Booth Lange, while exhilarating, would be destructive at the same time. She’d been there before and she knew it was a major test of one of her life policies to never regret anything, but to take every experience as a lesson well learned and to move on.
“Better?” Booth interrupted her thoughts.
She lied again. “Much more comfortable, thank you. Is Ness’s place far from here?”
“Nope.”
Well, wasn’t he the conversationalist. Willow fought the urge to prod him with another question and instead settled back in her seat to enjoy the ride. They’d been driving less than ten minutes when he pulled into the driveway of a cute house in a newish development southwest of town. The gardens were a riot of summer color and the lawn looked well kept. Willow was a little surprised. She knew Ness had been recently widowed when her husband died during a military training exercise and she knew the hours Ness put in at the store.
“Wow, this looks lovely,” she commented. “When on earth does Ness have time to keep this place up?”
“She doesn’t. I help where I can.”
“She’s lucky to have you,” Willow said, meaning every word.
It hadn’t taken long to become fast friends with her new employer. Ness was an incredibly warm-hearted woman, and didn’t have a bad word to say about anyone. It was so unfair that she was now facing parenthood on her own. Still, she soldiered on, refusing to accept anyone’s sympathy, taking every day as it came to her and trying to make it just that little bit better for the next person who came along.
Booth didn’t respond immediately. Eventually he sighed and said, “We’re tight. Always have been.”
The front door opened and Ness came outside with a welcoming smile. Not for the first time in her life Willow wished she’d had siblings. Someone to share her every thought with. Someone who’d give her a much-needed kick when necessary. Her relationship with her mother had never been one that was strictly mother-daughter. Most of the time, certainly in her adult life, they’d been more like friends—at least up until the latter stages of her mother’s illness. Seeing Ness give Booth a big hug and kiss “hello” made Willow feel just a bit empty inside.
She resolutely pushed the sensation away. She knew you didn’t choose to get hurt or sad in this world, but you could most definitely choose who or what hurt you or made you sad. She would not let the obvious close relationship between brother and sister make her feel less in any way. She had a smile pasted on her face when Ness released her brother and turned to fa
ce her.
“I’m glad Booth could persuade you to join us,” Ness said as she pulled Willow in for quick hug.
Willow almost snorted. Like he’d left her a choice? Still, she was glad she’d come. She was no different from all the other people who found Ness’s presence a soothing one to be sought out at every opportunity.
“Thank you for asking me. I wish I’d had time to bring something for you,” Willow apologized.
“Oh, don’t be silly. I don’t expect anything. Besides, you gave me a much-needed day off by looking after the store today. How did the circle go?”
Ness linked arms with Willow and pulled her toward the house, listening with interest as Willow described the activity of the afternoon.
“I guess you’ll be needing a drink after that, hmmm?” Ness said with an arched brow. “You’ve earned it. White wine, red, or a beer?”
“A glass of red would be great, thank you.”
“So what was today’s lesson?” Ness asked, leading Willow into her kitchen.
“To never stick your yarn with your needles.”
“Why wouldn’t you do that?” Booth asked. “Seems like sense to me. Keeping all your stuff together.”
“It’s bad luck for whoever you’re knitting for,” Willow answered. “Isn’t that right, Ness?”
Her friend gave a murmur of assent as she poured a glass of red wine for Willow.
Booth made a sound of disbelief. “Luck is what you make it. I don’t hold with superstitions.”
And he didn’t “hold” with her, either, Willow thought privately as she watched him help himself to a beer from the fridge. He twisted off the cap and took a long pull at the chilled liquid. She found herself watching as the muscles in his throat worked, and had to force herself to look away before he realized she was staring. She wasn’t quick enough, though, and as he took the bottle away from his lips his eyes met hers and clashed. She felt a flush of warmth spread across her cheeks and turned away, unaccountably flustered.
“There are plenty of superstitions around knitting,” Ness interjected, breaking the spell between them. “Like knitting one of your hairs into a garment binds the recipient to you.”
Willow laughed and ran a hand through her long hair. “With my hair, that’s a given with everything I do, let alone knit.”
She froze mid-action as Booth’s eyes locked onto her and his eyes appeared to darken momentarily, his pupils dilating. Instead of the usual coolness he reflected toward her she was all but scorched with the heat exposed there. As quickly as the fire was there in his gaze, it was gone again, leaving Willow wondering if she’d imagined it after all. Booth looked away, breaking the tenuous link between them as if it was nothing more than a gossamer web.
“You want me to warm up the grill?” he said to his sister.
“Sure, we can eat early and then sit out on the back porch and enjoy the evening,” Ness replied, handing him a set of barbeque utensils and an apron.
Booth held up the apron and looked disparagingly at the words printed on the front. “Kiss the cook? I don’t think so,” he said firmly, putting the apron back on the countertop beside his sister.
“Oh, go on. What are you afraid of?” Ness laughed, picking the apron up and looping it over his head before he could duck away.
*
What was he afraid of? That was a very good question, Booth thought as he suffered Ness tying the damned apron around his waist. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for her, but this came pretty darn close. If it had just been him and Ness, there’d be no question, but after the look he’d just exchanged with Willow, he didn’t need any reminders about kissing or any of the other forbidden thoughts that raced through his over-fertile imagination every time he was within sight of the woman.
“Off you go,” Ness said with a pat on his shoulder.
Booth snagged his beer bottle and headed out back onto the porch where he stood a few moments trying to rid himself of the unsettled feeling that suffused him whenever Willow was around. The feeling just got stronger. She was out here with him.
“She sent me out to keep you company,” Willow said simply when he wheeled and gave her a questioning look.
“I like my own company well enough.”
“I’m sure you do, but Ness wouldn’t hear any different.”
Booth forced his shoulders to relax and put the barbeque tongs on the table next to the grill.
“She’s a hard woman to say no to.”
“That’s for sure,” Willow agreed, settling in one of the deep wicker chairs Ness had on the porch, her glass of wine dangling from her slender fingers. “Is it just the two of you?”
“Yeah.”
“And your parents?”
Booth fought back the wave of frustration that always surged through him whenever he thought about his mom and dad. “Both gone,” he said bluntly and flicked the ignition on the state-of-the-art grill his brother-in-law had bought shortly before his death.
“It’s good you have each other, then,” Willow persisted, despite his short answers.
He had to admit she was right. Even when their parents had been alive, there had been times when he and Ness had felt as if all they had was each other. Especially those nights when their father had returned from town, liquored up and full of rage against the shadows—hell, against anything that moved. Their mother would tell them to hide and she’d face his fury alone every time. Booth had hated her for that. Hated that she’d put herself willingly in front of his father’s fists. Never once thinking about taking Ness and him and leaving the abusive bastard. Never once thinking of her own safety.
When his father had died, crashing his beat-up old truck on the way home from yet another drinking session, Booth had felt nothing but relief. Finally they were free. Except they weren’t. His mother’s cancer, something she’d borne in secret for months before her husband’s death, took her away before they even had time to take a breath. He and Ness had been placed with his aunt and uncle with only a handful of their things from the dilapidated house that had been their unhappy home.
Without Ness he’d have run away for sure. He owed his sister a lot, everything, in fact. She’d kept him grounded, but it hadn’t been enough to stop the worst of his father from coming out in him. Booth reached for his beer and downed a mouthful. And that was what frightened him the most—he never wanted to be that man. But he had a temper, one that the woman sitting near him provoked something awful. And it wasn’t all anger, either. Just thinking about her was enough to arouse him…and he didn’t like it. He was a man who prided himself on his control, except around Willow Phillips that control became a tenuous thing. He didn’t trust her. Hell, he didn’t trust himself around her!
Booth realized that Willow had fallen silent. He should ask her about her own family, extend the conversation, but he didn’t. Instead he left the grill to heat and stepped back inside.
“Ready for the steaks?” Ness said, looking up from putting the finishing touches to the bowl of salad she’d prepared.
“Yup.”
“She’s nice, isn’t she?”
“Willow?” he asked in surprise.
“Who else would I be talking about?” Ness teased with a poke at his hard belly. “Of course, Willow.”
“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.”
“Why’s that, Booth? She’s harmless and she’s been a blessing to me at the store. She’s pretty too, don’t you think?”
Harmless? Sure, the same way a prairie rattler was harmless—until you bothered it.
“Why’s she even here anyway?” he deflected, not even wanting to enter into discussion on the “pretty” aspect.
“She’s my guest for dinner, the same way you are,” Ness answered with an edge that warned him he was close to overstepping an invisible mark.
“No, I mean in Marietta,” he clarified.
“She’s waiting to meet up with her father.”
“He’s from here?”
>
“Apparently, although she doesn’t have the look of anyone we know around here, does she?”
He shook his head. No, she didn’t. She did, however, have the look of a woman who had the distinct knack of getting under his skin and staying there, reminding him of her existence with irritating regularity and how long it had been since he’d been with a woman.
“So why’s she looking for him now?”
“Her mom died recently and she has no one else left.”
That explained her sudden silence after their brief conversation before, he thought, taking the tray of meat out to the grill. Either way, except for ensuring she didn’t rip his sister off, she was none of his concern—and that’s exactly the way it would stay.
*
It was getting dark when he and Willow left Ness’s place. His sister looked tired, but kept extending their stay, saying she didn’t want to be alone just yet. Now, here he was, confined in the cab of his truck with a woman who disturbed him on every level of consciousness and a few unconscious ones into the bargain. At least the distance to the store was a short one.
He pulled up in the alley out back of the store and hopped down to open Willow’s door. He may not particularly want her here, but he wasn’t about to compromise his standards when it came to the right way to treat a woman.
“Thank you,” she said simply as he opened her door.
He walked with her to the door, waiting until she’d inserted the key in the lock and turned it.
“You want me to check inside?” he asked, still exhibiting the manners his mother had drilled into him from birth.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“Good. I’ll head off then.”
But even though he said the words, his body didn’t want to compute their meaning. He stood, rooted to the spot as Willow pushed open the door and turned back to him.
For Love of a Cowboy Page 5