Melanie gathered up the coolers from lunch and carried them to the house while Caleb backed the truck into the shed. He met her in the kitchen where she was cleaning up the coolers.
“I really appreciate all your work today,” she told him.
“You’re welcome, but you know you don’t have to thank me. You’d do the same if I had a need.”
“Of course I would. Still, I’m grateful. If I’d had to do that job alone it would have taken me days, and who knows what the weather might do before Daddy comes home.”
“I was glad to help.”
“I was glad to have you.”
“Are we through yet?”
She blinked. “Through with what?”
“With whatever this polite, I-barely-know-you-butthanks- anyway nonsense is.”
This time she blinked twice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay, fine.” He threw his hands in the air. “But if that look of fear I see in your eyes is for me you’re really going to piss me off, pal.”
“You think I’m afraid of you?” she cried.
He wished he knew if the outrage on her face was real or feigned. He suddenly felt as if he was walking through a minefield where she was concerned.
“You’re afraid of something,” he said. “Every time I’ve been near you today you get this look of panic in your eyes. Maybe I’ve come on a little strong a couple of times, but for crying out loud, Melanie, this is me. You have to know I’d cut off my right arm before I’d hurt you.”
“Good grief.” Melanie gaped. “You think I don’t know that?”
“For the past few days, when it comes to you I don’t know what to think.” But he breathed easier.
“Well, there you have it. We’re in total agreement. This whole…whatever it is…is just crazy. We need to go back to the way things were.”
“Were?”
“You know. Before.”
“Before what?”
“You know.”
“What’s the matter, can’t you even say it? We kissed. More than once.”
“I don’t need to say it. You’re saying it enough for both of us.”
“And you’re avoiding the subject entirely. Except for last night.”
“Now you’re throwing last night in my face?”
“Absolutely not,” he argued, fighting a grin. He didn’t care how mad she got as long as she wasn’t indifferent.
With narrowed eyes, she tapped her toe and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m glad we got that cleared up. Now, as grateful as I am for your help today, I’ve got things to do. Give your grandmother my best, and say hi to Emily and the girls.”
“I’ll do that. When I call home later.”
“When you—” She planted her hands on her hips. “Go home, Caleb.”
“Not gonna happen,” he said. “I don’t see your dad around here anywhere, and I’m not about to go off and leave you here, isolated and alone, when you’ve had strangers snooping around the place.”
Melanie opened her mouth to protest, but then she remembered her father saying he needed to pay off a man named Bruno. Bruno. It could be that Caleb was more correct than he’d realized when he’d called her snooping strangers thumb breakers.
Bruno, for crying out loud. She was just worried enough to shut her mouth on further protests of Caleb’s intentions of staying.
But there was no sense in giving in too easily and giving him a swelled head.
“I didn’t notice any strangers out there when we came in.”
“I’m staying. If you weren’t so stubborn you’d agree it’s a good idea.”
“Stubborn. I’m stubborn?”
“If the shoe fits—”
“If you call me Cinderella again, I might have to hurt you.”
“I’m shaking in my boots.”
“You should be. Stubborn. This from a man they call yanasa.”
“Aw, come on. Don’t start that.”
His family had given him the nickname when he’d been a kid. The Cherokee word meant buffalo. His grandmother and brothers said it fit him because he was about as immovable as that hairy beast.
“Gotcha.” She gave him a cheesy grin. “Well, don’t just stand there, go get cleaned up for supper. But you’re doing the dishes.”
His smile was slow and devastating. “I’ve got no problem with that.”
That smile was all it took to make her pulse spike.
* * *
There were a few more chores to do after supper. Caleb tagged along and helped gather eggs, lock up the chickens to keep the coyotes and possums from getting them, bring the mares back into the stable and give them some grain.
Afterward Melanie told Caleb to make himself at home while she did some paperwork at the desk in the den. She heard him turn on the television while she made note of the final hay load. Unless they had the worst winter on record—and the way the PR’s luck was going, that was entirely possible—there should be plenty of hay to see the cattle and horses through the winter.
She smiled as a feminine Southern drawl came from the television in the living room. “As God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.”
Then she heard Caleb change channels.
She was in the living room and grabbing the remote from his hand in under three seconds.
“You can’t do that,” she cried, changing the channel back.
He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Jeez, sorry. All I did was change channels. You weren’t even in here.”
“You did a lot more than change channels. You committed a supreme no-no.”
“Let me guess. You’re on medication and you missed your last dose.”
“You are sooo funny.”
“I’m glad one of us is. Supreme no-no,” he muttered.
“Supreme no-no,” she repeated. “The top three supreme no-nos would be, you never turn your back while the flag is being raised, you never walk out during ‘Amazing Grace,’ and you never change channels during Gone With the Wind.”
“I won’t change the channel, if you sit here and watch it with me.”
“Good enough.”
“Do we get popcorn?” he asked hopefully.
Despite brushing and flossing, she was still picking popcorn hulls out of her teeth hours later when she went to bed.
Sleep, however, eluded her. How was she supposed to relax when she knew that Caleb was only a few feet away, across the hall in the spare bedroom? How was she supposed to close her eyes when every time she did she kept seeing that errant lock of hair fall forward onto his sweat-dampened forehead?
How was she supposed to sleep when he hadn’t tried to kiss her again?
She rolled her face into her pillow to muffle a groan of frustration. She was out of her mind. Perverse. Crazy. Stupid. She wanted to kiss him again. Wanted, maybe, more than that. Yet when the opportunity arose, she pushed him away, or ran.
Stupid.
But why did her best friend suddenly have to be so damn appealing?
Caleb didn’t have as much trouble going to sleep as Melanie did. But once he slept, he dreamed. About green eyes, dark hair, smooth skin. No fear in those eyes, but warmth, welcome. The afternoon in the hay barn, in his dream, was spent much differently than the reality. They had, indeed, set the hay on fire. Figuratively speaking.
Beneath his rough fingers her skin felt like silk. Beneath her touch his skin felt on fire.
In the dream there had been no need to work buttons, fumble with zippers. Their clothing melted away, letting the warm air caress every inch of them, as they caressed, tasted, every inch of each other.
He took her down onto the fresh, fragrant hay. In his dream it was loose and soft rather than baled and prickly. She reached for him and pulled him down into heaven.
He woke at 3:00 a. m., hot and hard and sweaty.
He nearly laughed out loud. He hadn’t wanted a woman this badly in a long time, and it felt good. Damn good. Too bad he coul
dn’t do anything about it.
Of course, he had options, but they were limited.
He could knock on Melanie’s door and hope she didn’t keep a gun in her bedroom.
Naw, bad idea.
He could take a cold shower, as distasteful as that sounded. But the noise of the shower would probably wake Melanie, and how would he explain taking a shower at 3:00 a. m.?
In frustration, he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow to stifle a groan.
The next morning started out more calmly than the one before. No hangovers, no hitting each other with shovels. No breath-stealing kiss in the kitchen. Just bacon and eggs and pancakes.
While Melanie started breakfast, Caleb headed for the back door.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I thought I’d turn the mares out.”
“Why don’t you cook and I’ll take care of the mares.”
“The whole point of my being here is so you don’t go out to the barn, or anywhere else, alone, in case those goons come back.”
“But it’s okay for you to go alone? I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Melanie, you’re—”
“If you were about to say I’m a girl—”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. We’ll eat, then go out together.”
“A very sensible plan. How do you want your eggs?”
With breakfast behind them and the kitchen cleaned up, they headed out for the day. They let the chickens out, then the mares, and cleaned out the stalls. Every step Melanie took, Caleb was right beside her. They invariably reached for the same bucket, the rake, the pitchfork at the same time, ending up tangling their fingers together more than once.
By the time they finished in the barn Melanie was almost used to the constant tingling that shot up her arm every time their hands touched.
She started to complain. There was plenty of room, no need for him to crowd her so damn much. But she had the feeling he was just waiting for her to gripe at him. She decided not to give him the satisfaction.
They loaded fencing supplies—T-posts, post pounder, wire, come-along, fencing pliers, staples, and more—into the back of her pickup and followed the path they had driven the day before to the field where the fence needed repairing.
They installed a new T-post halfway between the broken wooden post and the next post on either side, took out the broken one and restrung the barbed wire, fastening it securely to the new posts.
It was inevitable, with two people working together on such a chore, for their shoulders to occasionally brush, their knees to bump, their hands to touch. Accidentally, of course. Every touch an accident. Almost every touch.
Sometimes, however, he was a little too casual about it, telling Melanie that some of the touching was on purpose. Such as when he reached across her for the fencing pliers and his forearm brushed slowly, lightly against hers.
Sharp tingles of awareness flooded her. Her nipples peaked. Her breath caught.
“Sorry,” he said.
Melanie wasn’t buying it. He looked entirely too innocent.
All right, pal, she thought. Two can play this game. “No problem,” she told him quietly. “Oh, no!” she cried as she smeared dirt all down his arm. Accidentally, of course. “Now I’m the one who’s sorry. Here, let me.” She stripped off her gloves and gently stroked the dirty spot.
He jumped as though he’d been shot. “It’s just dirt. Leave it.”
“No, I think there’s a scratch under there. It could get infected.” She reached into the toolbox and pulled out one of her packaged towelettes. “This’ll just take a second.”
But instead of wiping off the dirt, Melanie cradled his forearm in one hand and used the other to caress the soiled skin. She brushed carefully from elbow to wrist, barely touching, applying no pressure. Then she did it again, sideways, following the pattern of hair growth, inner arm to outer, inner to outer.
His arm jerked in her hand, but he didn’t pull away. She did, however, hear him swallow rather heavily.
She had to fight to keep from doing the same. Her ploy to tease him seemed to be backfiring, if the spike in her pulse was any indication. The sight of her pale hands on his bronze skin made her heart pound.
“There.” Her voice was a little too breathy for comfort. “All clean, and no cut at all.”
He swallowed again, cleared his throat as he turned away. “Thanks.”
He didn’t brush or bump or rub against her again. It didn’t seem to matter. She was as aware of him as if he were stroking her bare flesh.
They finished the repairs, then drove along the fence checking for any other trouble spots. They found a place where a tree had fallen and pulled the fence between the PR and the Cherokee Rose down with it. It was just lucky that neither ranch had any cattle nearby.
As they hauled out their supplies again, Caleb said, “I can’t believe in all these years we haven’t just put a gate in this fence so we can go back and forth when we want.”
Melanie paused and looked at him. Then at the fence. “I’ve thought the same thing a dozen times over the years,” she admitted.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I thought it was a dumb idea.”
“What’s dumb about it?”
She shrugged again. “Nothing, now that I think about it.”
He grinned at her. “You game?”
She grinned back. “Why not? We could rig a Texas gate out of wire.” A Texas gate consisted of strands of wire fastened to a stationary fence post at one end and a loose, unplanted post at the other. Loops of wire on the opposite post held the loose post in place to close the gate. Simple, effective.
“Let’s do it,” Caleb said.
She laughed. “What’s Sloan going to say?”
“Or your dad,” Caleb said.
“Hey, if he can’t take a joke, to heck with him. Besides,” she added grimly, “he can’t get much madder at me than he already is.”
Caleb rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, the two of you will work it out.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am.” He turned her and held her gently by both shoulders. “You and your dad are closer than any other two people I know. He’s worried about his debt, you’re worried about the ranch. You’ll work it out.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am. And you know he won’t mind about the gate.”
She smiled. “No, he won’t mind.”
“Well, then, let’s get it done.”
Chapter Five
It was another long d reasons were somehow different from the night before. Today, not only had she felt the sharp physical pull toward Caleb, the hot sexual tension, but she’d also been reminded of his kindness, and his sense of fun.
How was a woman supposed to resist all of that? Why would a sane one even want to try?
She must have eventually fallen asleep—although she had seen 2:00 a.m. come and go on her bedside clock—because she woke at her usual five o’clock.
Bleary eyed, she stumbled from the bed and down the hall to the shower. Ten minutes of hot water pounding on her head helped make her feel more like a human being. She put on her robe, shoved her wet hair back with her hands and opened the bathroom door.
And ran smack into the hard wall of Caleb’s chest.
“Oomph,” was the closest way to describe the sound she made. Yet even with most of the breath knocked out of her she had no trouble feeling the solid warmth of his bare chest against her face and hands as she tried to catch herself.
“Whoa.” Caleb stepped back and steadied her by clasping her arms. “Sorry. Guess I was still half-asleep. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Or she would be, if she could convince her hands to remove themselves from his pecs. Oh, the man had glorious pecs.
“You sure?” he asked, his fingers flexing on her upper arms. “You look
a little dazed.”
She caught herself leaning closer to him and jumped back. “I just haven’t had my coffee yet. I’ll, uh, go start breakfast while you shower.”
Caleb turned and watched as she beat a hasty retreat to her bedroom. He entered the bathroom and closed the door, taking in the scent of her soap and shampoo that lingered in the air.
That was no lack of coffee he’d seen in her eyes. She was just glad to see him, or his name wasn’t Caleb Chisholm.
By the time he stepped into the shower, he was whistling.
“What’s on today’s agenda?” he asked over breakfast.
Melanie had given herself a stern lecture while she dressed and another while she cooked. Caleb was her friend, and he had volunteered to help her around the ranch. If she didn’t get a grip on herself she would end up drooling all over him, and wouldn’t that be a pretty sight?
But she was steady now, and prepared to act normally around him. If it killed her.
“Since you’re here and willing to work, I thought we’d saddle up and move the Angus herd up to the corral for their worming. You know, the glamorous part of ranching.”
“Well,” he offered with a slight smirk. “The riding might be glamorous, but I’d have to argue about the worming.”
An hour later they were saddled up and riding toward the pasture where the purebred Angus herd grazed. There were only a dozen head of the black cattle, not counting the bull, Big Angus, who was kept in a separate pasture.
It was a glorious morning, warm and bright, the smell of cottonwood leaves turning for the season teasing the air. The call of bob-white quail was music on the breeze, with a counterpoint of the creak of leather, a cow calling her calf.
“If there’s any better life than this,” she said, staring up at the blue, blue sky, “I can’t imagine what it could be.”
“There is no better,” Caleb said.
They rode on at a walk, in silence. Melanie felt an emotional closeness with Caleb that she’d never felt before. At times like this she believed they were more than friends, they were kindred spirits, two people with like values who enjoyed the same things, believed in the same things.
The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands? Page 28