Best of Cowboys Bundle
Page 105
He was about to open his eyes and reward the colt when Crimson let out a big raspberry, spraying his face with horse spit.
“Hey! Cut that out!” Hawk sat up sputtering, and wiped his face with a sleeve. “No carrot for you, you smart-ass.” The horse’s eyes sparkled and he swore he heard a laugh under the whinny of protest.
“Very impressive,” came an amused female voice from the fence rail.
“Nip it, O’Brannoch,” he said, coming to his feet and batting the dust from the back of his jeans and shirt.
She smiled so genuinely, for a second he thought maybe she wasn’t there to make fun of him.
“No, I’m serious. That last bit maybe needs work, but I saw the rest. I can’t believe the progress you’ve made with him in the short time I’ve been here.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he swiped his Stetson from its fence post and mumbled, “Thanks.”
She followed and watched him give the colt his rubdown. It made him uneasy to have her gaze on him every second. It seemed to register approval, but he couldn’t help waiting for the other boot to hit the dirt. With her there was always something.
After several minutes she casually remarked, “I found work today. At Jake’s.”
Redhawk turned to stare at the woman in disbelief. “Work?” When had that happened? He hadn’t even known she’d left the ranch. “At Jake’s, the honky-tonk?” At her blank look, he said, “The bar?”
She nodded brightly. “Yes, I start tonight.” She glanced at the ranch house. “At eight. Well, I guess I’d better start dinner so I can be ready on time.” With that she began walking away before he could get his jaw up off the ground.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he managed, as she ducked under the rail. “How the hell—You’ll be out till all hours!”
“I suppose weekends will be late,” she agreed. “But I won’t be working full-time. Just enough to pay for—” she halted and glanced around quickly “—Fitz’s medicine. Jake and I have made an arrangement about my paycheck. To get around the work permit.”
“Whatever it is, it can’t be legal,” Redhawk said, narrow-eyed.
“Well, if it’s not, they’ll no doubt send me back to Ireland, which would solve your problem neatly,” she said, and gave him a tight smile. “Besides, that sheriff’s deputy was sitting right there and heard the whole thing, so it can’t be illegal.”
“Burton Grant?”
Redhawk wasn’t sure what Grant had done to Fitz in the past to earn his enmity, but the old man really had it in for the deputy. He was always calling the man a traitor or worse. Redhawk’s own dislike had developed only recently—last week when he’d seen how the man had ogled Rhiannon in her shapely new jeans. At Jake’s.
He clamped down on a sharp spurt of jealousy. “I don’t like it,” he stated, the words coming out growly and harsh from deep inside him.
Rhiannon drew herself up ruler-straight. “I’m a big girl now. I’ll take care of myself.”
Yeah. That was the whole damned problem.
From his second-floor bedroom window, Hawk stared down at the moonlit dirt track leading to town. The dust from Rhiannon’s Jeep driving away had settled a good two hours ago, and he knew rationally she wouldn’t be back for hours to come. But he couldn’t help looking. Or wanting to run for his truck.
He would not go to Jake’s.
First of all, they couldn’t afford even the few dollars he’d have to spend on beers to rationalize his being there. And second…Second, he had no freaking business following her around like some lovesick puppy.
He was not lovesick. Not hardly. The woman drove him plumb loco. Poking her nose in everywhere and taking over like she already owned the place. Getting into bathtubs with him. Sleeping in his bed.
Sticking his hands in his pockets, he turned to peer at the rumpled covers and saggy mattress of the bed he’d slept on for over a decade. He should have gotten a new one years ago. But it had never really seemed to matter. He always fell asleep practically before his head hit the pillow, so he’d never noticed if it was saggy or uncomfortable.
It probably was. She probably tossed and turned every night up here because of that old mattress.
He frowned and took a step toward the bed. Maybe he should check it out. Just in case the couch was more comfortable, and he really should trade with her. He took another step.
Yeah. That’s what he should do.
He checked his clothes in case they were dusty, but he’d already showered and changed, so he gingerly sat down on the bed, then stretched out. And immediately groaned.
He was assaulted by the scent of her. Sweet, unique and feminine. His body clenched painfully, remembering what it had been like to be surrounded by her, wrapped in her arms, enveloped by the smell of cool desert sage and warm female flesh. The sight of her wild red hair in the moonlight. The slap of water against metal as his body thrust into hers.
Damn and hellfire.
He sat up and ground his palms into his eyes. He had to get a grip. Making love with her had been a mistake. Still lusting after her was an even bigger one. And starting to like her was probably the biggest mistake of all.
Where had that thought come from?
But it was true. He’d been fighting it tooth and nail, but in the ten days since she’d arrived, he’d honestly grown to like and admire her. Just look at today. All he’d done was sit around and whine about their rotten financial situation. She’d actually gone out and done something about it. Things would still be tight, but now they’d be able to eat and get Fitz his meds, too. Thanks to Rhiannon.
But that didn’t mean he had to like the idea of her fighting off drunks and rhinestone Romeos at Jake’s. The very thought made his teeth clench. Unfortunately, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He lay back on the bed again and closed his eyes, imagining what it might have been like if he hadn’t had such a miserable start in life. Hell, even if he hadn’t had that bull riding accident that’d left him with a trick knee. Maybe then he could have worked harder and the ranch would have prospered, and Fitz would be raising his Thoroughbreds and Redhawk’d have his string of rodeo ponies and maybe even a place of his own. Something to show for a lifetime of busting his butt. More than broken dreams.
Something to offer a woman like Rhiannon. She shouldn’t have to work like a slave just to have enough to eat. She deserved more. She deserved better than a broken-down ex-rodeo cowboy and a broken-down ranch teetering on the verge of bankruptcy.
So he’d best just go on staying out of her way, keeping to himself and barking at her when she came close, making sure she didn’t care to spend any more time with him than necessary.
Because if she ever started wanting him the way he wanted her, they’d both be in a world of hurt.
Hawk eddied gently toward consciousness as the ebb and flow of rushing water sounded somewhere nearby. A storm maybe? Nah. He must be floating on the river, maybe on an air mattress. He drifted back into an easy sleep, pulling the pillow close to his nose. Damn, it smelled good. Like…something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spring flowers or something.
The boat he was drifting in dipped, and someone said, “Oh!”
He knew that voice. He’d dreamed about it. Except it had been whispering in his ear.
“Hawk?” it whispered.
Yeah…just like that.
“Mmm,” he mumbled, and reached for it. “Float with me,” he murmured, pulling the voice close, so it vibrated softly against his neck. There was that great smell again. Stronger now. “Mmm,” he purred, and slipped back off to sleep.
Rhiannon blinked, captured in Hawk’s slumberous but immovable embrace. He was obviously not going anywhere, and neither was she. He’d shocked her, waiting here in bed for her in the dark. Or maybe he hadn’t actually been waiting for her. Maybe he’d just come in for some clean clothes and collapsed from sheer exhaustion as he did every night, and just not made it back to the sofa first.
Thank goodness she’d put on her shift.
She blinked again and resigned herself to spending the night in his arms. The remainder of the night, she reminded herself, glancing at the luminous dial of the digital clock, which read 3:28 a.m.
Letting out a sigh, she snuggled closer to the man who held her. Her lover.
She tested the two words in her mind, turning them over, examining them, dancing around them, savoring them.
But he wasn’t her lover. Not really. They’d had sex. He’d made that clear—right after she’d turned down his marriage proposal, and ever since. He didn’t want to be her lover. He wanted the ranch, and was simply willing to take her in the bargain, if he must.
But Rhiannon O’Brannoch would be no part of a bargain. When she married, it would be forever. Marriage was sacred. There would be no deals or bargains or secrets between her and the man she married. And there would be love.
In his sleep Redhawk pulled her tighter to his torso, banding an arm over her bottom so their legs wound up in a tangle all the way down to their toes. It felt so good. She felt so safe and secure she forgot all about loneliness and betrayal, money woes and her aching feet, and just enjoyed the rare moment of peaceful bliss.
Too bad it couldn’t go on forever….
When she woke, he was gone.
Had she dreamed it all? She might have thought so, except the scent of him lingered on her skin and in her bed, and she had to brace herself against a wave of powerful longing. She wanted to call out to him, to seek his warmth and bury herself in his sheltering embrace once more.
No.
Flipping onto her stomach, she pulled the blankets up over her head and fought the urge to despair. It would be all right. She would be all right. She didn’t need Redhawk Jackson or his disquieting effect on her. She didn’t need anyone. She only needed to belong somewhere, and she’d found her place in the world.
Irish Heaven. The place she’d make her own, come hell or high water.
Rhiannon finally bounded downstairs well into the morning. She was excited because she’d counted her tips from the night before and found they added up to a whopping $47.65. It had been worth having to memorize twelve kinds of beer and seventeen hard liquor brands, dodging countless cowboy come-ons and smiling till her cheeks hurt. She was rich! And she couldn’t wait to tell Fitz and Hawk.
Hearing voices, she made for the kitchen, and stopped in her tracks when she came through the door and found Burton Grant sitting at the table, along with Redhawk and an unknown woman. Fitz was nowhere to be seen.
Burt immediately got to his feet with a smile. “Rhiannon. Good morning.”
She answered his greeting, including everyone at the table.
Hawk glanced up, his scowl deeper than usual. “There you are. This is Dr. Kenner from the university.” He indicated the woman, who offered her hand as he introduced Rhiannon. “Dr. Kenner’s the archaeologist.”
“Ah, the Indian burial we found by the road,” Rhiannon said, her interest piquing. She walked over to the coffeepot and grabbed a mug. “Did you take a look, then?”
Dr. Kenner nodded soberly. “Not an Indian burial, unfortunately.”
Rhiannon paused in adding milk to her coffee. “No? What was it then, an animal after all?”
Burt’s smile dimmed as he strolled over to the counter close to where she was standing. “It was human, all right.”
“Dr. Kenner thinks it’s recent,” Redhawk said. “That’s why we called the Sheriff’s Office.”
Rhiannon felt her eyes widen. “Recent? How recent?”
“I’d guess within the past couple of years,” Dr. Kenner said. “We’ll have to call in a police forensics team to know for sure.” She shook her head. “Kind of creepy. I’ve never found anything like this before.” She actually looked a little green.
“I can imagine,” Rhiannon said, still stunned by the news. Then it struck her. “Oh! Do you know who it is?” She glanced between Hawk and Burt, who both shook their heads. “Thank God for that,” she murmured. Her original nervousness over being in this wild country returned in full force. “Is this sort of thing normal here?”
Hawk looked insulted, but Burt gave her an indulgent smile. “Not usually. This isn’t the Wild West anymore.”
She wasn’t so sure, but politely refrained from saying so. “What happens now?”
Hawk opened his mouth to speak, but Burt cut him off. “The medical examiner will take charge of the body and a state team will come in and process the scene,” he explained.
Hawk glared at him. “Don’t you have some phone calls to make, Grant?”
Dr. Kenner rose. “Well, I sure do. Thanks for the coffee, Mr. Jackson.”
Irritation skidded across Burt’s face, but he set his cup in the sink and ambled after Dr. Kenner, turning to Rhiannon at the door. “See you tonight at Jake’s?”
“I start work at eight.” She started to follow them to the front door but suddenly Hawk’s hand was around her arm.
“Let them find their own way out,” he muttered, low and angry. His gaze bored through her. “I thought I told you to stay away from him.”
Shock whipped through her. “I—”
“Fitz hates Grant, and it would upset him if he thought you had anything to do with the man.”
“I don’t. I can’t help who comes into Jake’s while I’m working,” she whispered fervidly, listening for the front door to close and trying to yank her arm loose.
He pinned her against the counter, his large frame looming over her. The front door slammed and her heartbeat thundered into double time.
“I should make you quit,” he said roughly.
“Just try it,” she dared, her limbs turning to jelly as his familiar scent swirled around her, teasing her. Taunting her. She reached into her jeans pocket as she met the challenge in his eyes. And pressed thirty dollars of her tips into his palm. “We need the money.”
He stared down at the green bills for a long second. When he looked up his eyes were shuttered. Then he was gone and stalking out the back door, leaving her hot and limp and thoroughly ashamed.
“Hawk!” she called, but she was talking to the slamming screen. “Stubborn, stubborn man,” she muttered. “What am I to do with you?”
They needed the money desperately. But it was obvious Redhawk was having a hard time accepting her help. Or maybe he resented it, thinking the only reason for her doing it was to save the ranch so she could inherit. Which, of course, was partly true. But she’d do it, anyway, even if Fitz showed her his will and it stated there in bold letters that Irish Heaven would go to Hawk. She prayed that wasn’t the case, but she’d still help if it were. Because she cared about Fitz. And him.
But how to convince him of that?
She glanced out the window and caught a flash of bare, bronze shoulders bent over the water pump next to the trough. He was filling it with water.
A rush of conflicting emotions burst through her. Memories of the last time, exactly a week ago, saturated her body with an acute yearning to feel him again inside her. Fear also avalanched through her, of what would happen if she did. To her, to her willpower, to her heart. For she was beginning to realize that Hawk was a man who could claim her totally and mercilessly, and leave her completely devastated if he then tossed her aside. Which, chances were, he would. Once he’d gotten what he wanted.
She’d have to guard her heart carefully. But she must find a way to get through to him. To make peace. And if it took climbing into that trough again to do it, well, she’d just have to do that.
And pray her poor heart survived the ordeal.
Chapter 6
T ired and sore from being in the saddle all day checking fences and counting cattle, then putting in a long training session with Crimson after supper, Redhawk put his hands on his hips and contemplated his warm, inviting private Jacuzzi. Then he lifted
his eyes to Rhiannon’s Jeep bouncing away from the ranch toward town.
Decisions, decisions.
The thirty dollars she’d given him this morning was burning a hole in the pocket of his working jeans, urging him to clean up in the house and head out after her. Not like a puppy, y’understand. More like a junkyard dog on the trail of a thief.
He didn’t like spending a single dime on anything that wasn’t necessary—not that he’d probably need the money, knowing his friends. But for some reason, watching Rhiannon work the cowboys at Jake’s seemed like an absolute necessity at this particular moment.
And then there was Burton Grant. The man was definitely up to no good. Hawk aimed to find out what it was. It would kill Fitz if Rhiannon got involved with him, especially if she got the ranch and Grant ended up—
Nope. Not goin’ there.
He shook his head to clear it, then limped back to the house. Fitz was in the living room watching TV, something he did more and more lately. Hawk didn’t have the heart to ask the old guy to pitch in with the heavy work, and Rhiannon was taking care of the light stuff, so there was no real reason to object. But it made him sad that the once lively, vibrant man had been reduced to this. He was looking older by the minute.
“Hawk, how’d it go today?” Fitz called to him with a happy smile.
“Good,” he said, putting on his best face. “The cows are gettin’ fatter and the horses gettin’ faster.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” Fitz started to rise. “There’s a plate for you in the oven. I’ll get it—”
Redhawk waved him off. “That’s okay. I’m going to wash up first anyway. Thought about takin’ a trip into town tonight. Want to come?”