Best of Cowboys Bundle

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Barbara White Daille, Judy Christenberry, Christine Wenger, Shirley Rogers, Crystal Green, Nina Bruhns, Candance Schuler, Carole Mortimer

“Oh.” Her jaw lowered a few notches. She smiled again, and he had to fight to keep from reaching out to her. “In that case, thank you. I’ll just finish covering this bureau, then go over to the bunkhouse to start supper.”

  “I’ll help.”

  Together they wrapped the piece of furniture with the plastic, tucking it in on all sides.

  She looked around. “Now that we moved the overflow out of here, I can see what a nice room this is.”

  One boot propped on a cardboard box, he leaned back against the wall. “Yeah, I always liked this place. Window’s a little low because of the sloped ceiling—made it easy to climb out and down the tree outside.”

  “Climb out?” She looked up, her eyes wide. “Didn’t your father have a fit when he found out what you’d done?”

  “Granddaddy wanted to, sure enough.” He shrugged. “But Daddy told him it helped a boy grow a sense of independence.”

  “And did it?”

  “Sure. Only he wasn’t happy to hear Daddy used to sneak out that way all the time.” He laughed, but Marissa frowned.

  She looked at the windowsill, just inches above the floor. “It doesn’t seem safe enough to put a baby—”

  “Hold on,” he interrupted. Was she looking for excuses again? “It’s plenty safe. And if you’re worried, we can put one of those gates on the window.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Sure I am.” For emphasis, he shoved the cardboard box away from him and stood tall.

  She looked down at the box. “Oh, that reminds me.” She came over to kneel beside him. “I found this carton in the closet. I didn’t know if you wanted to put it up in the attic or keep it down here.”

  “Can’t think there’s much of anything in there I’d want.”

  “I think you’ll be surprised.” Her smile lit her face.

  Damn, but she was beautiful. The hell with acting—he wanted some action. He wanted her. In his arms and in his bed.

  She reached for the box, and he hunkered down on his boot heels. It brought him closer to her.

  She opened the lid, and he wished he’d stayed farther away.

  His hands turned clammy. His stomach dropped to his boots.

  Funny, how memory could fool you.

  He’d have bet money he’d never seen that box before. But as soon as he laid eyes on the contents, he knew he’d not only seen that carton, he’d hoarded every last blasted item in it.

  Taken one out after dark, when Daddy and Granddaddy wouldn’t see. Cried with it under the covers, where Daddy and Granddaddy wouldn’t hear. Put it away every morning, so Daddy and Granddaddy wouldn’t know.

  One at a time. All he could handle.

  One every night of his little-boy life.

  Yeah, memory could fool you.

  People could, too.

  If you let them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Holding her breath, Marissa looked into the open box. She had so much at stake here, had mixed so many dreams amid this little collection of loving mementos.

  With a trembling smile, she looked at Gabe. He crouched beside her, unmoving, staring down at the carton, an indescribable look in his eyes. She was touched by his obvious emotion at seeing the family keepsakes.

  She prayed that, one day soon, he would feel that same power of emotion for their own child. And for her.

  Smiling, she reached for the ceramic frame that sat on top of the pile. The picture inside the frame showed a woman cradling a newborn.

  “Your mother, Gabe? She’s beautiful. You’ve got her eyes.”

  His were now dark and smoldering, and his reaction at seeing the picture touched her even more. He’d had the family she’d always wanted, the closeness with parents she’d always craved. The relationship she so desperately wanted for her baby.

  She had to blink hard and look away from him, down at the frame again. Still conscious of him beside her, she ran her thumb along the ceramic edge and imagined a picture of her cradling his child.

  “Your mom saved so many keepsakes for you. I’ll bet it’s been a while since you’ve seen them. Look.” She reached for the next few items in the box and placed them on the floor around their feet.

  A pair of knitted blue booties and a matching cap. A finger-painted drawing of a purple-spotted horse. A miniature pair of cowboy boots. And a little log cabin made of Popsicle sticks.

  “I’ll bet she knitted the cap and booties for you, didn’t she? And how sweet to save them all for—”

  “No.” He shot to his feet.

  She looked up at him. “What’s the—”

  “She didn’t save them. Daddy and Granddaddy must have. I told them to throw ’em all out.”

  “Gabe.” She rose to stand beside him, reached out to touch his arm. Tension radiated from his body, from the drawn lines around his eyes. For once, she didn’t react to the feel of him with a physical response, but with a purely emotional one, a heart-wrenching throb of sympathy.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would affect you this way to see these things again.” She tightened her grip. “It must have been hard, losing your mother. But you shouldn’t pack all these memories away. You’re so lucky to have these mementos—”

  He laughed, a guttural gust of sound without a trace of humor. “Give it up, Marissa. You’re the one with the happy-family fantasy. Don’t try transferring it onto me. I didn’t ‘lose’ my mother. She lost me. Me and Daddy and Granddaddy.”

  “I don’t understand—”

  “I was six years old—not even Kevin’s age—when she walked out on us.” He dropped his arms to his sides, pulling her hand free of his wrist. “She took off. Left. Vamoosed. You get the idea. Here one day, gone the next. And I never saw her again.”

  Coldness swept through her. She knew what his words implied—a connection between his mother’s desertion and her own leaving. What could she ever do that would make things better between them? What could she ever say that would take away his pain?

  Tears filled her eyes. Through the sudden blur, she saw him clench his fists. Saw the cords in his neck tighten, a vein in his temple pulse, raw fury turn his eyes black.

  “Funny, women don’t seem to stick around this place.”

  “I’m still here,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

  “Yeah.” His eyes glinted, sharp as the hard steel blade of a boning knife. “For how long?”

  She tried to speak, but words clogged in her throat. She couldn’t respond, when she didn’t know the answer.

  Even now, no matter how much her heart hurt for him, no matter how much she wanted to stay, she couldn’t make promises she might not keep.

  He moved away, his foot lashing against the box, skidding it across the floor. He took another step. She heard something crunch beneath his boot.

  Looking straight ahead, he strode across the room, his heels shaking the walls. Or maybe her ragged breaths and wobbly legs and heaving stomach made things seem to move around her.

  Slowly, she sank to her knees.

  On the floor beside her lay a little log cabin made of Popsicle sticks now splintered beyond repair.

  Swallowing a sob, she bowed her head, closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.

  SHE HADN’T yet recovered from his emotional revelation the day before. It had made Marissa wary of being close to him again, uncertain about how she should act, and completely unable to figure out what he was feeling or thinking—something he certainly wouldn’t tell her now. He wasn’t ready for that. He might never be.

  The thought filled her with sorrow.

  Still, he had shared something with her, painful though it might be. And she’d gained some insight into what made Gabe the man he was.

  She spent the morning in the kitchen, only once venturing upstairs, where Gabe and Warren had started work in the baby’s room.

  She stood just outside the doorway.

  “You’ve almost finished the first coat,” she noted, pleased by their progre
ss. She waved at a pale green wall. “How do you like it so far?”

  “Nice and cheerful,” Warren said. “But I’m going to need those brushes from the barn to take care of that sloped corner.”

  Before she could react, he had slipped past her, leaving her alone with Gabe, who stood wielding a long-handled roller, applying a coat of color to a wall with slow, even strokes. He wore a pair of jeans worn through in places and an old faded T-shirt to do the painting, and beneath the T-shirt’s sleeves, his biceps flexed with his movements.

  For a breathless second, she stood transfixed, drinking in the sight of him. Then she blinked and pulled her gaze away.

  He hadn’t answered her question. Hadn’t even turned around to face her.

  “What do you think about the color, Gabe?” she persisted.

  “Warren called it.”

  She held back a sigh. “I’ve got a border, too.”

  “Sounds good.” He knelt to set his roller down on a paint tray. More bunching and flexing, this time the play of strong muscles in his thighs and calves. Her mouth grew dry.

  He rose again, and now, he did turn to face her. And more. He stepped carefully across the paint-spattered drop cloth on the floor.

  She wouldn’t turn and flee, no matter how much she wanted to avoid being close to him. But she couldn’t help backing up a step.

  He kept coming.

  “Uh…we’ll need a second coat,” she blurted. “But I’m glad now that I chose the light color. It will change the atmosphere of this room completely.”

  And maybe chase away some of Gabe’s bad memories.

  At the moment she wished she could chase him away, too.

  Still, he moved closer, and her heart started to pound.

  “You ought not to be in here.”

  “You’re right. The paint.” She retreated into the middle of the hall. He stopped in the doorway. “You should be done by early this afternoon,” she continued. “I want to look for a crib.”

  “Right away?”

  “You said yourself, I’ll soon be halfway through the pregnancy.” And the sooner Gabe started thinking of her as a wife and mother of his child, the better. For all three of them.

  “Special order?”

  She shook her head. “No, I thought I’d just take a look in the nearest department store.”

  “About thirty miles away.”

  “My car can handle the trip.” She chose her next words carefully. “Of course, your truck would work better if I buy something that can be brought home immediately. If you and Warren finish early enough this afternoon, maybe you could go along with me.”

  She held her breath, waiting. Hoping.

  Finally, he answered. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  For a moment, his features softened with feelings she wasn’t sure she could put into words. Then the moment was gone, and he was stepping back into the room and out of her view.

  She started down the stairs. Halfway along, a thought hit her, stealing her breath. She halted and grasped the railing.

  She knew now what Gabe’s face had shown. Emotions she had never seen in him before.

  Yearning. Wanting. And need.

  Not hot and steamy. Not sexual at all. Those, she would have recognized right away.

  Instead, she had seen concern in his expression. In his actions, too, when he had cautioned her about leaving the freshly painted room.

  Were his feelings all for the baby? Or did he care about her, too?

  Was it possible that, deep in his heart, where he felt all the things he couldn’t say, he wanted her to stay?

  THEY WERE OUT of town and back with a crib in less time than Marissa had thought possible.

  Warren had heard them pull up and was already there, opening the tailgate.

  “It’s a beautiful crib,” she told him. “A sweet little oak four-poster that perfectly matches Gabe’s bureau. And it converts to a twin bed, too. You’re going to love it.”

  “Yeah?”

  She laughed. “Well, I like it.”

  “Let’s get this set up,” Gabe said.

  “Right now?”

  “Good a time as any.”

  Gabe had been quiet but pleasant during the whole trip.

  Though she had asked his opinion about her selection, he left the decision up to her. She tried not to let that bother her. Tried instead to hold on to the hopes he had unknowingly given her. By his interest in setting up the crib so soon. And, even more, by the emotions he had let slip through his guard.

  “All right.” She went ahead of the men to open the kitchen door, then stayed downstairs to start preparing supper.

  A while later, she heard Gabe calling her. “Come and take a quick look.”

  As she peered into the baby’s room, tears came to her eyes. “Oh,” she said softly, “you even put on the sheet and bumpers.”

  “Yeah. Too soon to leave them up for good, but we thought we’d surprise you.”

  And she was surprised, yet again, by this evidence of his tender side. Was it wrong to want to see that more often? “It’s beautiful,” she told them. “Just perfect.”

  “Looks good,” Warren agreed. “And done just in time to get washed up for supper, too.”

  “Yeah,” Gabe said forcefully.

  Marissa laughed.

  Warren departed, leaving her alone again with Gabe.

  She waved a hand, indicating the room, and murmured, “So what do you think?”

  He looked around. “Made a big difference.”

  If only it could make a lasting difference in him, the way it already had in her. She could see a baby nestled in that crib. Could feel what it would be like to be a family.

  When Gabe picked up the cans of leftover paint he planned to take out to the barn, she led the way down the stairs. Halfway along the hall, she heard the telephone ring.

  “I got it,” Warren yelled.

  In the kitchen, they found him in enthusiastic conversation.

  “Looks right nice, too. You’d never know it was Gabe’s old room. Yeah, right here. Hang on a minute, Doc.” He held out the receiver to Gabe, waved to Marissa and left the kitchen.

  She turned to the refrigerator. They needed extra milk at the bunkhouse, and another tomato or two.

  Idly, she listened to Gabe’s conversation, which consisted mostly of, “Yeah, Doc.” “Sure…sure.”

  Never very talkative, he was practically speechless on a telephone. Yet he didn’t need many words when he wanted to get a message across. She almost smiled, thinking of him hanging up on Father. She would pay for that one day, of course, but for now she found it very satisfying.

  “No problem, Doc. We’ll be home this evening, for sure.” Gabe replaced the receiver and looked over at her.

  “Is Doc planning to drop by tonight?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Gabe’s sudden smile looked…funny. Hard to describe. Excited? Elated? Maybe a little smug?

  She put her hands on her hips. Immediately, his attention swung to that part of her anatomy, then began to travel slowly up her body, sending a rush of warmth through her. Knowing her cheeks were flushed, she turned away.

  “So what’s going on?”

  “Doc’s bringing company.”

  “To supper? How nice.” She began thinking about what she might add to tonight’s menu.

  “No, not to supper. To stay.”

  She whirled to face him. “Stay? Where? Not here?”

  “Oh, yeah. Seems he’s got an overflow of people coming to town for New Year’s and needs a place to put them up.”

  “You didn’t tell him he could bring them here?” Gabe’s smug smile widened, and she knew he had done just that. “You can’t. We have no place to put them. Unless…” Her mind worked feverishly, calculating something much more critical than what to serve for supper. “If they’re all male, they can sleep in the bunkhouse.”

  Gabe stood shaking his head. “Nope. Married couple, Doc said.”

 
“Okay, then, I’ll sleep in the baby’s room.”

  In an instant, he stood before her. She refused to back off, forced herself to meet his gaze.

  “Can’t, Marissa. Fresh paint, remember? Besides, no extra beds, no extra mattresses. And—” he glared at her “—no way someone’s going to find out we’re in separate rooms.”

  “They won’t.” She couldn’t give in to this arrangement, knowing it might take her somewhere she wasn’t ready to go. Not yet. Please, not yet. Not until she had proved herself.

  “Our agreement, remember?”

  She groaned. How could she forget?

  “One small detail,” he persisted. “We agreed about not sharing a bed, but the deal didn’t say one damned word about sleeping in the same room. I kept my end of the bargain.”

  And, heaven help her, she needed to keep hers.

  She caved in. What else could she do? “All right. I’ll move into your room. We’ll take turns sleeping on the floor.”

  “Hell, no,” he snapped. “Not me, not you. Circumstances change and we’ve got to adapt, that’s all.”

  “Gabe—”

  “Forget it. My house, I sleep in my bed. And I won’t have a pregnant woman sleeping on the floor.”

  In an instant, all the happiness of her day trickled away. All the worries came flooding back.

  How could they form a friendship first, when they would be sleeping together in one bedroom?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Frowning, Gabe sipped his fresh cup of coffee.

  They’d had Doc’s guests in the main house for a couple nights now. By rights, that should’ve worked in his favor. He’d been happy to help out Doc, to let the man’s friends take over Marissa’s bedroom. Their arrival had put her in his room, in his bed—where he wanted her.

  Yet she had turned all his plans against him.

  By day, she’d busied herself with cooking and baking for the late New Year’s Eve supper she’d just set out for his men. By night, she’d somehow managed to slip away and get to sleep before him. And by morning, she’d left him in an empty bed.

  No way would she pull any of that on him again.

  “C’mon, boys,” Warren announced. “Time to lend the missus a hand.” He got up from the table. “Gotta do something to pay her back for this fine meal.”