Mr. McCall ambled up behind his wife and squeezed both of her shoulders. “He’ll be fine, and it’s nice of Jordan and Cole to wait for his return.”
“Wouldn’t dream of letting Jordan make an honest man out of me without him.” Cole smiled and let out an ‘umph’ when his fiancée elbowed him in the ribs.
“And I wouldn’t dream of having this wedding without Kerri as my maid-of-honor.” Jordan turned to her and tipped her head. “What do you say?”
“Of course,” she replied, hugging her sister tight. “Anything for you.”
Jordan drew back and smiled. “Thank you.”
It really did Kerri’s heart good to see her sister happy, and not the fake happy she’d tried to pass off as real a few times the last two years. The sparkle in Jordan’s eyes and flush to her cheeks were the real deal, and certainly enough to set Kerri’s world right again.
At least, for the time being.
“What about you, bro?”
Cole’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she focused on the younger McCall as he placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“Are you up to being my best man?”
Connor grinned wide enough to bare his twin dimples. “Absolutely.”
Best man…
The urge to clap trembled through Kerri’s hands when realization dawned. She resisted. Barely. I get to stand up with Connor. Oh, goodie.
Not.
As she took a sip of the bubbly that was once again shoved in her hands, she swallowed it down along with her apprehension.
So much for going back to California this year.
Still, she had to admit, Valentine’s Day was an appropriate date for the happy couple. Theirs was a match made in heaven and brought together by fate. What better day for the two of them to pledge their love for each other than on the most romantic day of the year?
Truly perfect.
Now, if Kerri could just figure out how to avoid Connor for the next three months...
Her gaze shifted across the room to Mr. Tall Broad and Manly laughing it up at something his father had said.
Dang cowboy always seemed to turn her orderly world upside down. And she liked orderly. Liked it just fine. Thrived on it, even.
Lifting her glass to her lips, Kerri studied his broad back and narrow waist, and smirked as visions of Connor in red briefs filled her head.
Boxers indeed.
Chapter Three
It wasn’t going to work.
Whatever the matchmakers had planned, whatever they thought they were going to accomplish by delaying Kerri’s departure…it wasn’t going to work. Connor’s mind reeled several days later as he strode through the cattle barn on his way to see his foreman. Keeping the poor girl in Texas when she clearly wanted to run back to California was a mistake. A big mistake.
Who was he trying to kid?
It was damn brilliant. A few weeks of bumping into the beautiful, vulnerable chef he could handle, but a few months? Hell no. He was in trouble. Big trouble. Standing in the middle of cow-patty pasture with no rocks in sight trouble.
In other words, deep shit.
He was a strong man. Both physically and mentally, but he wasn’t stupid. He was under no illusions that he could resist the strange pull Kerri had over him. But resist he would, until he was down for the count, hogtied and drew in his very last breath of freewill.
The visual his thoughts conjured soured Connor’s gut and twisted his lips. Cripes. He was tired of being a pansy ass. No more. The last three females he let into his heart took advantage of his good nature, wrapped him around their little finger, siphoned out what they could get, then tossed him in a dumpster with last week’s garbage.
He was nobody’s garbage. And although he didn’t lump Kerri in the bitch category, she was in the city girl category, and he wasn’t taking any chances with his heart. Never again. Ever. Hell, his heart was off the market. Permanently.
Were the next three months going to be tough? Hell yeah. Was he going to give into his attraction to the west coast beauty? Hell no. Was he just whistling Dixie?
God, I hope not.
The sound of amicable voices broke through his thoughts.
“I know. And the rice pudding? She had some kind of spice in there. I ain’t never tasted nothing quite like it before,” Hank Thompson, his fifty-four year old ranch foreman stated to the four supervisors standing around drinking coffee. “My wife asked for the recipe.”
Connor groaned inwardly and slowed his approach. No need to ask who or what they were all talking about. Only one cook could put a smile on a man like the one consuming Hank’s weathered face.
Kerri.
He’d specifically avoided the stable knowing there was a small chance the dang visiting temptress could waltz in and disrupt his fledgling resolve.
Now he wondered why he even bothered.
“It was right nice of her to think of us and send food over on Thanksgiving when she had her own dinner to worry about at the main house,” Joe, one of the supervisors stated.
She did?
Connor shouldn’t be surprised. Kerri always did think of others. He remembered when she was young and Emma would offer her a cookie, she’d always ask if her sister or Cole and Connor could have one, too. Always.
He shook his head. Why in the world did that memory stick with him after all this time? And why the hell did it matter?
It didn’t.
He straightened his shoulders and walked up to his men. Men who didn’t necessarily need him to carry out their jobs. He’d handpicked and trained every one of them, and was replete in the knowledge his ranch could run without him. Exactly what he’d intended. This afforded him the leeway to participate in a rodeo or head to an auction without the added worry chores would go undone because he wasn’t around.
That didn’t mean he didn’t work. No. Just the opposite. He worked his ass off. Could do any job on the ranch and did. Often working side-by-side with the men and women he employed. He believed in leading by example.
A quality he’d learned from his grandfather William McCall. The man, who for eighty some years, had given blood, sweat and tears to Wild Creek. Tall and lean, right up until his heart had failed him five years ago, Will had been Connor’s mentor, and every day he strived to live up to his granddaddy’s name.
Old Will had led the ranch through the depression, dust storms, droughts, wars and even a flood, and still he never once failed his family or crew. He ran the ranch with a fair and just hand, and now Connor carried on the legacy.
His father and Cole had a head and passion for business. But Wild Creek was in Connor’s blood. He loved the open range, the livestock, hills, creeks, horses, cattle drives, auctions and the day-to-day trials that came with running the ranch. If he had to wear a suit and work in an office, he’d shrivel up and die.
Hell no. He tugged absently at his collar. No monkey suit or walls to pen him in. He needed the sky above him and God’s green earth beneath his boots to keep him sane. Surviving long term in a city was beyond his ability. And not an option.
“There he is now,” Hank said, bringing Connor’s mind back around to the men. “The lucky stiff who got to partake in a full meal cooked by the little lady last Thursday.”
The guys murmured things like, “yeah” and “good for you.” while some even slapped his back.
“Imagine tasting her vittles every day,” Pete, another of his men chimed in. “Lucky bastard.”
Now, Connor knew they meant food. He knew it, but that didn’t stop every muscle, bone and organ in his body to stiffen at once. Cripes. He was a six-foot-four-inch piece of hard wood. Throbbing wood.
The men stared at him, waiting. For a reply, or did they know he was about to blow? And it wasn’t a gasket. Damn it. One beat passed then another. He blew out a breath before clearing his throat.
“True,” he said, scratching the bridge of his nose. “Kerri’s a great cook.”
The men nodded again.
“Yeah,” Art agreed. “Don’t let her get away.”
Ah, hell. Not them too. The last thing he needed was his foreman and supervisors to jump on his parents’ bandwagon.
“She’s just a friend.” He pushed passed them to get to the coffee pot in the make-shift break area set up in an empty stall. It was too early for this crap.
They were supposed to have their morning meeting where they discussed the day’s itinerary. He may not want to work in an office, but he did see the merit of structure and teamwork. He had a foreman who watched over the supervisors who watched over the workers in their crews. Their morning meetings were to discuss issues and jobs, not sweet, sexy, unsettling cooks, dammit. So why the hell were they discussing Kerri?
“Bull,” Hank said. “The two of you don’t look at each other like friends.”
“Yeah.” Cal nodded. “You should do something about it.”
Connor poured a cup and shook his head. “No.”
Did his parents put them up to this?
“Why not?” Hank asked.
Ah hell, they’d all followed him into the break room.
“She sure is pretty.”
Connor didn’t need Joe pointing it out. Cripes. He knew Kerri was pretty. Hell, she was gorgeous. But that didn’t matter.
“I wouldn’t mind giving it a go, if she’d have me.”
“Pete, even your mama won’t have you,” Art replied, and they all laughed, including Connor.
“Seriously, though.” Hank cupped his shoulder and stared up at him. “We’ve all seen the way you look at her, and she looks at you.”
He snorted into his coffee. There goes his foreman with that looking thing again. The past year during her visits, Kerri had looked at him, alright…but her gaze had been mostly friendly, sometimes guarded, sometimes apprehensive, and admittedly, that tore at his gut. It hadn’t sat right with him. Made his chest ache.
He would never hurt her. Ever. Why would she be afraid of him? Was it because of her ex-husband? So help him, if that man had laid a hand on her, he’d hunt him down and…
And what?
Connor expelled another breath. Nothing. It wasn’t his concern. She wasn’t his concern.
And he wasn’t their concern. “You’re all imagining things. We’re just friends,” he said again. “Besides, Kerri’s going back to L.A. after the wedding.”
“Then make her stay.”
“Yeah.” Joe nodded. “Change her mind.”
“Use the old McCall charm,” Cal suggested. “Your brother did, and he hooked one of the west coast beauties.”
Connor sipped his coffee and shook his head. “Forget it. It’s not the same. Those two always had a thing for each other.”
Hank folded his arms across his chest and studied him. “So, you’re saying you don’t have a thing for Kerri?”
“Are you dead?” Pete stared at him like he’d gone bonkers. “How can you not find her attractive?”
“Of course I do. And, no, I’m not dead. Just realistic,” Connor replied. “Why start something that’s going to end with her leaving in a few months?”
Cal frowned at him. “Who said it had to be something permanent?”
“Yeah.” Pete’s head bobbed like a troubled mare. “Why can’t the two of you have a little fun?”
Fun? Kerri?
Connor’s insides tightened again. He’d like to have a few months of fun with the beauty. Hell…he’d like that a lot. But, could they? His pulse galloped a few beats then slowed to a realistic trot. No. “She’s not the type.”
“How do you know? Ask her,” Pete insisted.
Ask Kerri to have an affair? That was the stupidest suggestion he’d ever heard. Connor laughed in their faces. “You’re all crazy.”
Off their rockers. Off their meds. Maybe they needed meds.
Why the hell were they having this conversation, anyway? It was getting out of hand. He slammed his empty cup down on the wooden counter by the coffee pot. “Look, guys, I know you mean well, but drop it. She’s a city girl, and you all know I’m allergic to them. End of story.”
He turned around, and son-of-a-bitch if that city girl wasn’t standing in the doorway turning a deep shade of red.
Ah hell. How much of the conversation had she heard?
“Kerri.” He stumbled forward, and the guys turned to the doorway, guilt coloring their own faces.
“Hi,” she said weakly, then thrust a paper at Hank. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to give you the recipe I promised your wife.”
The foreman took it and smiled. “Thank you. It’s right nice of you to share. Meg says not a lot of chef’s give up their secrets.”
“Nothing secret there.” She smiled as she backed out of the room. “Well, I’ve got to go. Have a nice day.”
Connor sent his men an agitated look as he rushed out after the well-dressed woman, surprised to find her fancy shoes had carried her halfway through the barn already.
“Kerri, wait,” he called, but she ignored him. “Dammit, Kerri.” Rushing forward, he grabbed her elbow and pulled her to a stop. “Would you wait?”
“I—I can’t. I’m supposed to meet Jordan and our mothers to go shopping.”
Shopping? Jeez. He tried to keep the scowl off his face. She couldn’t let a whole week go by without the need to hit the stores? What was it with city girls? Okay, that wasn’t fair. Most girls, no matter where they lived liked to shop. Especially the weekend after Thanksgiving. But still, she hadn’t even been on Wild Creek five days. “I won’t keep you from your fun. I just wanted to apologize.”
“For what?”
“How much of that conversation did you hear?”
Her gaze dropped to his boot while the flush reclaimed her cheeks. “Not much.”
“Liar.”
Her head snapped up, and heaven help him, righteous indignation sparkled in her eyes, turning them whiskey brown.
She stole his breath.
“For your information”—she yanked free—“this city girl isn’t shopping for fun. It’s out of necessity. Nothing I’m wearing is my own.” She waved a hand at herself. “I had to borrow this coat from your mother, and the pants, shoes and top are Jordan’s. Even the bra is hers. And you know what?”
Dear God, she unzipped the coat and held it open like a flasher. His heart rocked in his chest, and without looking down the walkway to see if his men were watching, Connor grabbed her arm and tugged her into the nearest stall. “What are you doing?”
“These clothes aren’t me.” She ignored his question. “It’s too revealing. Jordan’s just more comfortable with herself,” Kerri said.
But he’d only half heard, thanks to the blood rushing through his ears at the sight of black lace peeking out from under a body hugging navy top. Damn she was mouthwatering. And he knew exactly how mouthwatering her body was. He’d seen her in a blue bikini last spring, a blessed scrap of blue material that hardly covered her luscious curves. Curves he’d fantasized about all year.
And now his mouth wasn’t the only thing watering.
“So, you don’t have to worry about being allergic to this city girl,” she continued, zipping up her coat, covering the delectable view.
Damn. He liked that view.
“And I already told you, I’m not here to land a husband,” she added.
That last part was delivered on a long sigh. He studied her slumped shoulders and downcast gaze.
“I know that,” he said when he found his voice. “And I’m not sure what you heard, but I’m sorry. Seems my men have jumped on the matchmaking wagon.”
Her gaze shifted to him before her eyes closed, and she shook her head and groaned. “I’m sorry, Connor. I didn’t mean to disrupt your life like this. It’s bad enough mine is disrupted.” Her eyes opened and they locked gazes. “I’ve no idea what has gotten into everyone.”
“My guess is they want to see us happy.”
>
She nodded. “Yeah, but, we can be happy being single.” Her spine straightened and chin lifted. “We are happy being single. Why don’t they see that? Why do they have to make everything so hard?”
He shrugged. She was the one making things hard. Cripes. Unable to get the image of lace-covered cleavage out of his head, he was back to being that block of wood again.
“I mean, it’s silly, really.” A small smile tugged her full, luscious lips.
“What’s silly?”
“You and me.” She snickered.
Oh, now he was curious. “What exactly is so funny about you and me?” He frowned down at her. “You think I’m too much of a hick and couldn’t attract a girl like you?”
“What? N-no.” Her head shook vigorously, knocking a lock of hair in her face. “Just the opposite. Why would they think you’d be interested in me?”
Was she was being coy, fishing for compliments or actually that clueless as to her sex appeal? Either way, he decided to play along.
“Well now, darlin’,” he said, lifting his hand to brush the strand of hair behind her ear. “That isn’t much of a stretch.”
Her eyes grew round. “It’s n-not?”
“Nope.” He shook his head, skimming his finger along her cheekbone to her lower lip.
Darn woman was soft. Real soft.
She sucked in a breath and backed up until she hit the stall wall. Hard. With his finger still stroking her face, he drew closer. Which was stupid. He should’ve let her go and walked away. Ran away.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t break her wide-eyed gaze. That apprehension was back, and darn it all, he couldn’t go…wouldn’t go until she looked at him differently.
“Kerri.” He bent slightly at the knee to make eye contact. “You know I would never hurt you, right?”
She blinked. “I—yes, of course.”
“Then, darlin’, why do you look at me like you’re afraid.”
“I-it’s nothing like that. In fact...it’s not you...it’s me.”
He dropped his hand and squeezed a fist as disgust soured his mood. God, how he hated those words. They’ve ruined his life on more than one occasion.
Her Unbridled Cowboy (Harland County Series) Page 4