“A what?”
Cassie spun around and leaned against the counter. “It’s someone who doesn’t eat meat, or any other animal products either. Milk, eggs.”
What the crud did the guy eat then? He skipped that question and went to the next. “What does he do for a living?” Shane wasn’t sure what he was probing for, but he was pretty certain this woman wasn’t all that in love with the guy. After all, she’d kissed him on the first night they’d met. Granted, she’d been through a lot, but still.
“He does real estate.”
“Uh-huh?” He could tell she was holding something back.
She turned away from him. “Mostly in India. That’s where he lives.”
That last sentence echoed louder than the beeping of the microwave.
Cassie popped open the small door. She tested the edges of the bowl with her fingers before removing it. “Did you want milk in this?”
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “Your boyfriend lives in a different country?”
“It’s called a long distance relationship,” she snapped. “Did you want milk or not?”
Was it just him, or had her cheeks gone two more shades of red? He held her gaze for a blink. “Yeah.”
Cassie grabbed the milk from the fridge, rested it on the counter, and pulled the toaster away from the wall.
Shane shook his head. “How did you meet him? How long have you two been dating?”
“Well, I met him just as he was preparing to leave, actually. A month before. That was about three years ago.” After dropping two slices of bread in the toaster, she slid the bowl across the counter. And then a spoon. As she turned her gaze toward the window, Cassie’s dark hair spilled over the deep red of her pajama top. And though she stood only a few feet from him, it felt as if she’d somehow drifted oceans away. It took him a minute to look down and take hold of his breakfast.
“Thank you,” he mumbled. But what he really wanted to do was yell. Wake this woman up. It wasn’t enough that she’d been abandoned by her own parents? She had to go find a guy who’d do the same dang thing? He poured sugar without really thinking of the action. He ate that way too, though his appetite was all but gone. The motto was: if you couldn’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. And for the life of him, Shane couldn’t think of one nice thing to say. Not with that jackass of a boyfriend on his brain.
Once he was nearly finished, a few safe words came to mind. “Is Betty going to help you with the dinner tonight?” Shane was prepared to make a crucial phone call if she answered no.
Cassie stood leaning over the sink, water running in a thin stream as she scrubbed at a large potato. “Yeah.”
Shane sighed.
“I’m kind of nervous,” Cassie admitted. “I’ve never cooked for so many people before, but the potato bar – your mother’s idea – was brilliant. They cook themselves.”
Brilliant was right. Over the week, Betty had no doubt discovered just how challenged Cassie was in the kitchen. A smile crept over Shane’s mouth as he eyed Cassie, hovered over the sink, eyes pasted on her work. He heard the guys clomping up the steps and stretched out his arms with a yawn. Best he get going as well.
Just as Shane stood to take his bowl to the sink, Cassie released a small gasp. “Oh my gosh, look at this one.” Her blue eyes were wide with excitement as she held a bent potato in one small hand. “Have you ever seen a potato do that? Grow all … distorted?”
He set his bowl down and took it from her hand. “Used to scrub these things for my mom. I remember the first time I found one like this,” he said, holding it up to the light. “I was so fascinated by the odd shape, I didn’t want anyone to eat it. When I showed it to Betty, she explained what had caused it to grow like that.”
Cassie tilted her head to get a better look. “What was it?”
The large sack of potatoes rested in the sink. Shane reached in and pulled out another. With one in each hand, he pieced the two together, resting the top of the oval-shaped potato inside the nook of the misshapen one. It was like linking pieces from a puzzle – a perfect fit.
Cassie’s hand gripped onto his bicep. “Of course. It grew next to another one.” She sighed dreamily, taking the potatoes from his hands and placing them together as he had. “Aw, that’s so sweet.”
“My mother always thought so. Said if she was a potato growin’ in a barrel with Grant, she’d shape herself right around him too, if it meant staying close.”
“I love that,” Cassie said. Her weight shifted from one foot to the next as she cradled them. The action brought her closer to him. So close he could feel the warmth of her arm against his.
He ran a slow gaze over her heart-shaped face. Dang, she looked good in red. He cleared his throat. “Guess I better get going,” he said. “You need anything before I leave?”
She bit on that plump, bottom lip while considering.
“Something off the high shelf?” he suggested. “A piggy back ride back to bed?”
“That might be nice,” she said, laughing out loud.
“A kiss goodbye?”
The laughing stopped, and he could swear Cassie’s gaze had landed solidly on his mouth. Shane moistened his lips, suddenly hungry for a taste of hers. How about both, he thought, but didn’t dare speak it. He had to get out of there. And fast.
Her lids seemed to grow heavy as she gazed at him through thoughtful eyes. If Shane didn’t know better, he’d say Cassie was fighting the same desire burning inside him at that moment.
“You’ve uh, got my cell number, right?” Shane asked, backing out of the kitchen.
A flash of confusion crossed over her face before she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It’s right there on the phone.”
“Okay. I’ll be sure to keep it with me.” He lifted his hat from the hook along the mudroom door, placing it on his head.
“Have a good day,” Cassie said.
He turned to get one more look, imagining what it would be like to come home to such a woman at the end of each day. “You too, sugar,” he said, and headed out the door.
~+~
Cassie released a dreamy sigh as she read the final page of Ann’s novel. She couldn’t have picked a better spot to finish. Lying on a thick blanket in the backyard beneath an endless sky of blue. Back home, she’d never been so drawn to spending time outdoors, but here, it was different. She could lift her chin to the sun, inhale deep breaths of fresh air, and feel the sunlight soaking into her very soul.
The weather wasn’t exactly warm yet, but with Levis and a sweatshirt, it was just right. While closing the book, Cassie eyed the cover, appreciating the bare chest more than she had before. No wonder it had been Ann’s favorite. Cowboy Conner was everything her friend had said he’d be. Though in Cassie’s mind – it was Shane. Handsome, rugged, all-too-alluring Shane Emerson. He exuded every masculine quality listed in those pages, along with plenty of others to keep her craving that highly coveted, ever-elusive cowboy’s kiss. Still, the guy knew how to keep her guessing. One day he’d be cordial, flirtatious even. The next he’d become ornery and brooding. Even from morning to afternoon his mood would change. Or seem to sour suddenly in mere minutes, for reasons she could hardly guess.
As she eyed the grazing horses in the nearby pasture, thoughts of her morning with Shane filled her mind. When he’d offered to carry her to bed, Cassie had enjoyed his teasing manner. When he’d mentioned the goodbye kiss, she’d nearly melted in a puddle at his boots. How desperately she wanted to tell him yes – she wanted the kiss. Needed it.
The acknowledgment had been at the center of her thoughts for more than half the day. The other part had been spent finalizing her decision where Griffin was concerned. Cassie could hardly remember what had made her fall for the man she’d called boyfriend for so long. From the moment he left town, she had made it her life goal to marry and start a family with him. It had been foolish. How could she set to accomplish something she had so little control over?
As Cassie rolled onto her back, bright light spilled through the budding branches above. She let her eyes close while considering the decision she’d come to, long before that day: She wouldn’t wait around for Griffin any longer. Their relationship was, in her mind, over.
What a relief it had been to open his letter and see that he felt the same. While squinting against the light, Cassie fanned through the book in order to find Griffin’s letter tucked in its pages. She allowed herself to reread the lines that stood out to her most: I am sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, to have allowed you to put your life on hold for me. I won’t continue to give you dates of when I plan to return. In truth, I’m not sure I ever will…
There was more to it than that, words of kindness and regret. But that was the phrase that mattered most – Griffin may not ever come back – Cassie had made the right decision. She would have no regrets.
Rather than place the letter back in the book, Cassie came to a stand, wrapping the soft, fleece blanket around her shoulders, and walked to the trashcan. She had no desire to hold onto Griffin’s note. Once she let go of something – she let go for good, no turning back, just like Grandma had taught her. After tearing the letter in half, and then in half once more, she let the pieces flitter to the base of the bin, feeling freer than she’d felt in years.
The green grass was cool beneath her bare feet as she wandered over to the small garden she’d planted with Jade and Reese the day after she’d arrived. Tall twigs marked eight rows of sugar snap peas. Already, the dark soil gave way to their mounding, tiny sprouts. The sight was eye candy. She could hardly wait until the growth was tall enough to see from the kitchen window.
On the night he’d picked her up, Shane had suggested that perhaps Cassie had been putting her roots down in the wrong place. Even before she’d had a chance to fall in love with the ranch, there’d been a shard of truth evident in his words. And though she knew it was ridiculous, Cassie couldn’t help but wonder if this is where she was meant to thrive.
Time spent on the ranch was so carefree and beautiful, she’d almost forgotten about the dangers and horrors that had sent her there. Of course she wondered how the other jurors were, and how Ann and Zoe were getting along at work, but Cassie was enjoying her home away from home. And now that she’d made a decision where Griffin was concerned, she looked forward to exploring her options with the Montana cowboy from Emerson Ranch.
“This your doing?” A deep voice spoke.
Cassie spun around, startled to see Reynold mere inches away. Though it was obvious he’d frightened her, he didn’t apologize for it. Just stared in a way that seemed to lack all sense of decency. The word barbaric came to mind. The strong angles defining his face – sharp lines and pointed features – only added to the menacing look of him.
His undefined darkness triggered a desperate place inside Cassie, where she considered dropping the blanket and bolting for the patio stairs. Her next breath came out jagged as she eyed the distance to that bottom step.
“The garden?” she managed, forcing herself to answer his question.
Reynold gave her a minimal nod, wiping at his chin with the back of one hand.
Cassie worked to keep her voice casual, friendly. “Yes. First time for me, actually.” She took a step back, followed by another, tugging the blanket tighter with one trembling hand. “Jade and Reese helped me with it last week. In fact, I think they’re coming by today too,” she lied.
More silence.
Never had Cassie known a person to keep any semblance of kindness off their face for so long. She tried to place the expression he wore. Cunning. Greedy. Hungry. A cat toying with an injured mouse before slinking in for the kill.
But she wasn’t injured. And she knew how to run. “Where are the rest of the ranch hands?” Cassie asked.
“Gone,” he said. “I just came back for a few things.”
Cassie set her eyes back on the house, wondering if she could make her way to it if a chase ensued. But what if he tried to follow her into the kitchen? And what if she wasn’t able to stop him? And when exactly had she become so paranoid?
It was stupid, she assured herself. Certainly this guy wasn’t trying to harm her. He might be a little off – socially backward was more like it. But he wasn’t a killer.
The slow movement of Reynold’s white, bony hand made Cassie jerk back.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, stretching his hand further until he touched her hair. The feel of it was wrong. Like exposed nerves were connected to each and every strand. “There,” he said, slowly drawing his hand back to where she could see.
She backed up, eyeing what he held. A brown spider scrambled for solid ground, one leg pinched between Reynold’s finger and thumb. Cassie shuddered, raking a hand through her hair in case there were any others.
“This little critter can make life pretty uncomfortable. It’s named the Hobo Spider. You see, he’s mostly a loner. Prefers to be off on his own.” Reynold tilted his hand, allowing the tiny, frantic legs to attach. Quickly it began to crawl up the back of his hand, weaving through the dark, coarse hairs on his pale skin. “But,” he continued, “when the Hobo is forced to mingle, he’ll bite. At first people normally don’t feel it. Bite’s nearly painless. But suddenly the spot starts to ache.”
Cassie stepped back once more, another shudder rippling over her body as the spider crept up his wrist.
“Twenty-four hours later, a blister appears – puffy and sore. And before the next day’s through, the affected area splits open – one giant, oozing ulceration.” The spider, roughly the size of a quarter, circled his arm as he rotated it. “They don’t like climbing vertically. See?”
The buzzer on the dryer sounded from within the house. “Better grab that,” Cassie said, whizzing around him and toward the steps. She didn’t look back until she’d passed the hot tub on the patio.
Reynold’s eyes were fixed on the spider as it climbed further along his arm. Just before it crawled beneath the hem of his short-sleeved shirt, he shook the spider off.
Cassie tried not to think about the fact that the thing was now crawling somewhere in the grass.
“Not a spider person?” Reynold hollered.
Hell no. Cassie shook her head.
And just when she thought he’d let the disgusting creature live, Reynold lifted his boot and stomped on it. “Lucky for you, Hobos usually dwell outdoors or in basements.”
The buzzer on the dryer sounded again, and Cassie took it as her cue. “Well,” she said, “laundry calls.”
The sliding door was open, closed, and then locked in seconds flat. She tugged at the drapes, closing those too while the sound of her loud breaths filled the space. Cassie eyed the mudroom next, realizing the door leading to the basement and back entry was wide open.
Letting the blanket drop at her feet, she darted past the kitchen table, past the washer and dryer, to where she closed the door in one quick stride, locking that as well. With a shallow sigh, Cassie tugged open the dryer door, sunk to the ground, and let the warmth from the stilled machine pool onto her skin.
The clean scent of detergent rose from the batch as she piled each article into a basket, Shane’s clothes mingled with hers. Once she heard Reynold’s pickup truck drive away, Cassie sighed once more, hating how crazy she’d become. It wasn’t just the Lawsons she feared now – but people dwelling in her new place? Someone the Emersons had trusted enough to hire? It was ridiculous, and she refused to live in that kind of fear.
As Cassie hung shirts, paired socks, and folded jeans, her hands became more steady – the trembling fading with each passing breath. Her thoughts were returning to their proper boundaries as well. She’d been freaked out by Reynold since day one. And for no good reason, really. Sure he was different. But she was certain he wasn’t out to hurt her. And though she’d silently vowed to ask Shane about him only moments ago, Cassie decided to feel things out instead. Chances were, the events she’d gone through were just catching up
with her. The more distance she gained from the strange encounter, the more Cassie would realize she’d overreacted. The kid was most likely harmless.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Shane kept his eyes glued on Cassie, waiting for the moment she’d sense his gaze. And though she stood in the kitchen among the other women there, hands submerged in sudsy water, it wasn’t long until the ocean blue of her eyes met his. And there it was – that heat welling up in his belly, surging through his quickening pulse. Never had Shane spoken so many words without even opening his mouth. And he wasn’t the only one talking. Cassie’s not-so-fleeting glances from across the room were loaded with unspoken words of allure, something he wanted more of. He sensed a difference about her. A carelessness that had her venturing further than she had before.
Shane quirked one eyebrow, and Cassie averted her gaze to scrub at the dish in her hands. He smiled at the way her cheeks turned pink.
Betty and Reese began setting out plates for dessert, obscuring his view. With barely a conscious thought, Shane moved over one chair, watching as the women turned to include Cassie in on their discussion. Soon Reese lifted a pan filled with some sort of frosting or glaze, stirring at the stuff before lifting the wooden spoon for Cassie to sample.
A trace of the white topping clung to Cassie’s upper lip as she took a taste. She licked at it while nodding, and then spoke up, her face animated and kind. Shane should be glad the two were teaching her a thing or two, but in the moment he couldn’t get himself to care. All he wanted was to be the focus of Cassie’s thoughts once more. Catch another magnetic gaze that would set his mouth to watering more than the aromas wafting through the home.
From the corner of his eye, Shane saw the ranch hands clustered in the front room, debating whether or not they should stay for dessert. It had been a long day, and the sun would be rising before they knew it. Randy’s opinion was the loudest and probably had more to do with Cassie than the dessert – he wanted to stay.
Cassie's Cowboy Crave: Witness Protection - Rancher Style (Sweet Montana Bride Series) Page 10