by Lisa Jackson
Red Wing snorted, eyeing the dark, straw-flecked, spindly legged bundle.
“Watch out,” Cassie warned. Colton jumped before Red Wing’s teeth found his back. “I think Mama wants to take over.”
He flashed her a quick grin. “Good. Let her. I don’t think I’m much of a midwife.” He moved out of the mare’s range.
“Oh, I don’t know, McLean,” she teased, unable to stop smiling over the lump swelling in her throat. “For a man who swears he hates anything to do with ranching, you did a fair job.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one.” She glimpsed at him from the corner of her eye. His shirt still open, Colton fastened his gaze on mare and foal. Virile and tough, yet tender and caring—no wonder she’d never stopped loving him. Quickly Cassie worked on the mare, making sure that eventually all the afterbirth would fall from the mare naturally.
Ignoring Cassie, Red Wing washed her new charge with her tongue, stimulating the colt’s circulation and cleaning him. She nudged him with her huge head, nickering softly, urging him up on spindly legs that refused to hold him.
He would struggle upright only to fall in a cross-legged heap or to land on his head.
“He could use a few ballet lessons,” Colton said.
“Maybe you should name him Misha.”
They stepped out of the stall and washed as best they could. Colton chuckled. “I’ll tell Tessa when she gets back.”
“Do.” She didn’t pull away when Colton’s arm surrounded her, and yet she felt suddenly awkward. There were still tremendous hurdles between them. Denver’s accusations for starters. Did Denver really think her father could be a part of such a heinous crime as deliberately infecting Black Magic with a virus? Once that was cleared up, which she was sure would happen soon, then there was still Colton’s need for danger and thirst for faraway places, while she belonged here. And the past—there was always that black cloud threatening to spill over them. Had Colton really put it to rest?
The little colt nuzzled his mother’s flank and finally found his first meal. A huge smile spread across Colton’s square jaw, and he hugged Cassie even tighter. “Finally!” he muttered.
“Tessa will be proud.”
“She should be.” He glanced down at her, and the kindness shining in his flinty eyes received an answering grin. “You, Ms. Aldridge, are a first-class mess.”
“I am?”
To prove his point, he plucked a piece of straw from her hair. Cassie stared down at her clothes, ruined with blood and amniotic fluid. “I guess you’re right.”
“How about a shower?” he suggested, his eyelashes lowering seductively.
“Not a chance.” But she laughed, imagining a rush of water tumbling over Colton’s bare skin and thick, dark hair.
“Why not?”
“Oh, I can think of about a dozen reasons. Let’s start with Curtis, Len, Daniel, Milly—”
“I already told you the hands are busy, and we could have Milly run an errand to town.”
“No way.” But she giggled.
“It could be fun.”
His gaze delved into hers, and she suddenly felt as if a tight leather strap had been placed around her chest, making it impossible to breathe. Her stomach trembled. “You’re positively wicked, Colton McLean.”
“One of my most endearing qualities.”
As the foal suckled and a few of the other horses nickered softly, Cassie was caught in the magnetism of Colton’s eyes. “I, uh, think we’d better find Curtis,” she said. “He’ll want to see Red Wing’s new foal. And then I think I’d better go home.”
Colton leaned a shoulder against the rough boards of the wall. His jaw slid to the side. “Afraid?” he asked.
“Of what?”
“Of me?”
“No!”
“Of us?”
“There is no ‘us.’ There never was. Remember?” Her heart pounded crazily, and the atmosphere in the barn became even more intimate.
“No us—then what was that a little while ago?”
“Passion.”
“So you’re afraid of passion.”
“No!”
“Then why not stay?”
She gulped, her mind spinning. All these years she’d wanted to be with him, and now her emotions were stretched taut. Their relationship had gathered the steam of a freight train running out of control. “You’re the one who so graciously pointed out what a mess I am,” she said, not ready to tackle the more serious issues.
“You could change here. Wear something of Tessa’s. Or”—his voice lowered—“something of mine.” He slid a sizzling glance her way.
“I’d look pretty silly in a Stetson, leather jacket and Levi’s.” Shaking her head, she said, “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think so. I’ve—I’ve got to get home.”
“Why? Ivan’s not expecting you.”
Ramming his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, he focused an intense gaze on her and crossed the small space separating them. “Things have changed between us, Cass.”
“Have they?” She thought about making wonderful love to him in the straw, and blushed like a schoolgirl. “Yes, I suppose they have.” She began to twist her fingers in the folds of her skirt, and she mentally shook herself, kept her hands steady and tilted her face to his. “So where do we go from here?”
“I wish I knew.” As if unable to help himself, he cupped her determined chin. Her skin quivered, and she knew that if she didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t be able to.
“So do I,” she admitted, stepping away, needing time and space to think. Years ago she’d rushed things, chased him with all the foolishness of a teenage girl in the throes of puppy love, and she wasn’t about to play the fool again—not even for Colton.
“Are you going to the Edwards’s party?” he asked as she reached the door.
“I have to. Command performance.”
He smiled at her irreverence. “Would you go with me?”
“I’d like it very much,” she admitted.
“Then I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Nodding, she pushed open the door and called over her shoulder, “I’ll see you later.”
“You can count on it.”
She climbed into her pickup and glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Twinkling hazel eyes returned her stare, and her heart pounded crazily in her chest. Time and distance wouldn’t matter much, she realized, because, like it or not, she was in love.
* * *
She didn’t see Colton for two days. Though she dropped by the ranch several times to check on Black Magic and Tempest, she never caught a glimpse of Denver McLean’s younger brother. Milly explained that he had “business in town,” Curtis was evasive but polite, and Cassie couldn’t help thinking that Colton might be trying to give her a hint. Had the love they’d shared been a mistake—just like before?
Though wounded, she hid her feelings and went about her job. Black Magic was recovering well. His temperature had dropped to normal and his abscess had matured. Cassie drained the abscess, then cleaned the cavity with a mild antiseptic solution. Black Magic didn’t like her ministrations much and tried to nip her.
Tempest seemed to have turned the corner, but his recovery was much slower than Black Magic’s, and the yearling was following the path of Tempest. Cassie was worried about those two horses because of the threat of complications such as pneumonia or, more rarely, abscesses in the internal organs. She crossed her fingers as she left the old foaling shed and started for her pickup. Unwittingly she scanned the near-empty yard for Colton’s Jeep.
Was he avoiding her? He hadn’t called, nor stopped by. Maybe he regretted making love to her. And perhaps his change of heart was for the best.
Frowning, she drove home and parked near the garage, wedging her truck into the small space left between Vince Monroe’s pickup and Ryan Ferguson’s motorcycle.
She wasn’t in the mood to face either of the two
men, but she had no choice, she supposed, as she climbed out of the cab. Erasmus streaked out of the kitchen, yipping at the sight of her and bounding across the yard. He jumped up, placed huge muddy paws against her skirt and barked.
“It’s good to see you, too,” Cassie said, eyeing the dirty streaks on her skirt. “Come on, let’s see what’s going on.”
With Erasmus bounding at her heels, Cassie climbed the back steps and shoved open the door. Inside, the men had gathered around the kitchen table. Newspapers, coffee cups and ashtrays covered the scarred surface. Smoke drifted to the ceiling, and all conversation stopped abruptly. Three sets of eyes turned toward her, and she felt as if she, in the very house where she’d grown up, was an intruder.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked, and her father waved her question aside.
“’Course not.”
Vince Monroe cast her a cursory glance. “Evening, Cassie,” he drawled, scraping back his chair and standing.
Always the gentleman, Cassie thought uneasily, noticing that Ryan hadn’t bothered getting to his feet. Not that she cared. His eyes followed her, and he inclined his head, though he didn’t move the one booted foot propped against her favorite chair. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, and smoke curled lazily over his head. His helmet sat on the floor next to him, and an insolent smile curved his lips.
A tense undercurrent charged the room. Cassie forced a playful grin in an effort to lighten the mood. “What is this?” she asked. “An old hens’ meeting?”
Ivan laughed, Vince guffawed, and Ryan’s dark eyes glinted.
“Yeah, that’s what it is.” Ryan finally lifted his foot and kicked the chair toward her. “Except that it’s an old roosters’ meeting. We could use a hen or two. Join us,” he invited.
Ivan’s smile fell from his face, and he sent Ferguson a warning glare.
“I can’t,” she said, glancing toward her father. “I’ve got to get ready. You, too.”
“For?”
“Nate and Paula’s party.”
“Oh, that.” Ivan shook his head and glowered at the thought of the Edwards’s annual event. “I’m not going.”
“Why not? Nate’s one of your friends.”
“I know, I know. But I got things to do,” her father said gruffly. “I think Sylvia’s going to foal tonight.” Sylvia was her father’s favorite mare—the best on the ranch. “But you go along. McLean called. Said he’d take you.”
Cassie’s heart somersaulted joyously. So he hadn’t been avoiding her! But still, that didn’t explain her father’s change of heart. Or did it?
Vince drained his coffee cup. “It’s time I was rollin’ along,” he remarked, stretching his big arms. “Otherwise the wife’ll be callin’.” He snatched his huge, gray Stetson and stuffed it onto his head, walked to the door, then paused, as if he’d had a sudden thought. His eyes found Cassie’s, and the pale blue orbs glittered a bit. “So how’re things at the McLean Ranch—those horses of his getting any better?”
“Much,” Cassie replied, experiencing a sudden chill. Vince Monroe had always made her uncomfortable, but this evening the feeling was even stronger. “Black Magic should be good as new in a few weeks, and the others—well, they’re coming along.”
“Good,” Monroe said gruffly. “Helluva thing that strangles. McLean’s lucky no more than a few horses got it.”
“I don’t think he’s feeling very lucky about it,” Cassie said, eyeing the older man warily.
“All a part of ranching. The bad part. Good night, Aldridge.” He squared his hat, exchanged glances with the other men and strode outside.
Ryan took a final drag on his cigarette and snatched up his helmet. “I’ve got to be shovin’ off, too.” His sultry gaze touched Cassie’s before he stubbed out the butt and glanced at Ivan. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ivan nodded. “If I’m not here, I’ll probably be with the mares. My guess is that Sylvia won’t wait too long.”
“I thought she wasn’t due for a couple of weeks,” Cassie said.
“She isn’t, but you try and tell her that,” her father joked, though his eyes didn’t sparkle as they usually did.
“Later,” Ryan called over his shoulder as the door banged shut behind him.
“Do you want me to stay?” she asked.
“Nope. Go along. I’ll handle things here.” Glancing down at his hands, he scratched one finger nervously across his thumb.
“I thought you were going to Nate’s party.”
Ivan scowled, his forehead creasing. “You know how I feel about gettin’ all dressed up.”
“It can be fun,” she said, remembering Sandy’s words and feeling like a hypocrite. Before Colton’s invitation, Cassie hadn’t been looking forward to the party, either.
“It’s a pain in the butt.”
“Since when?” she asked, knowing how her father loved a few drinks, a dance or two and a chance to see all his friends gathered together.
“Since that mule-headed mare decided to deliver.”
“Or since I decided to go with Colton,” she prodded, feeling there was more to it than he was admitting.
Ivan made a face. “As you’re so fond of tellin’ me, it’s your life. It goes without sayin’ how I feel about you going anywhere with Colton McLean. It was all I could do not to hang up on the bastard today—but I didn’t. Because of you.”
“Thanks.”
He bit the corner of his mouth. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind?”
“Not a chance.”
He sighed and turned his gaze to the table. He clamped his jaw hard, and a muscle worked furiously at the side of his neck. “I can’t give you any more advice, Cassie. Even if I did, you’re too stubborn to listen. But just”—at a sudden loss for words, he shook his head—“don’t rush into anything you can’t get out of.”
“I won’t,” she promised, wondering if being careful where Colton was concerned was possible and knowing in her heart that it didn’t matter.
* * *
Glaring at his reflection in the hallway mirror, wondering if he’d had one sane thought since making love to Cassie, Colton tugged at the impossible knot of his tie.
He hadn’t talked to her in two days, and it hadn’t been his choice. He’d known she wanted breathing room and, because he’d felt the same way years before, he’d given it to her.
He twisted his head, loosening the knot. His fingers were sweaty as he thought about the evening stretching out before him. Tonight Colton planned to enjoy every second of Cassie’s company. He’d even managed to talk to her father on the phone and keep his temper in check. Hurdle number one. There was just one more: Denver.
Colton heard the old truck rattle up the drive, and he braced himself. Denver had called last night with the news that he and Tessa would be arriving today. Curtis had left several hours earlier to pick them up at the airport. And now they were back.
Colton wasn’t looking forward to confronting Denver, but he didn’t have much choice. With a last scowl at the tie, he ripped it from around his neck and hurried downstairs and through the back door.
Before Curtis could crank on the emergency brake, Denver sprang from the cab and helped Tessa, her pregnancy in full bloom, from the truck.
They made a striking couple, Colton decided. Denver, tall and broad-shouldered with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes, and Tessa, her hair a vibrant red-gold, billowing behind her, her skin tanned, the bridge of her nose dusted with a smattering of freckles. Together, fingers linked, they dashed up the path.
Colton tensed. His relationship with his older brother had always been volatile. Though they respected each other, and probably would defend each other to the death, there was always a keen sense of competition between them—a love-hate relationship that had mellowed only slightly over the years. Their pride and hot tempers often got in the way of their common sense.
Tessa dashed up to her brother-in-law and gave him a fierce hug. “Dad said
Red Wing foaled the other night!” she cried, her hazel eyes bright. “A colt! Brigadier’s first! I can’t wait to see him!” She turned her eager face up to her husband’s. “Come on.”
Denver looked about to argue, but the delight so evident on her face must have changed his mind. “Can’t it wait?”
“No! Denver, come on! You know how important this is!”
“Yeah, I know,” Denver said with a half smile. “Let’s check him out.”
Tessa was already heading toward the brood mare barn, striding ahead of her father and the two McLean brothers. Inside, in a large, straw-covered stall, Red Wing guarded the gangly bay colt. His eyes were round and wide, his nostrils flared, his ears twitching nervously.
Red Wing, usually calm and friendly, placed her body squarely between the intruders and her foal. Her ears flattened to her head, and she eyed everyone, including Tessa, suspiciously.
“Look at him,” Tessa cried, fairly glowing. “‘He’s gorgeous.”
Curtis laughed. “You wouldn’t have thought so if you’d been here when he was born.”
Colton’s guts twisted at the memory, and his vivid recollection of that night, lying in the straw, filled with the scent and feel of Cassie . . .
“Good thing Cassie was here,” Curtis rambled on, and Denver shot his brother a killing glance. “This little guy was all twisted up, one foot caught back. Cassie had to help Red Wing out.”
“I should’ve been here,” Tessa said, staring guiltily at the inquisitive colt. Peeking from behind his mother’s rump, he stretched his long neck and blinked. “He’s perfect!”
Her father hugged her shoulders. “That he is, gal.”
“It worked out,” Colton replied. He glanced to the far wall and the box stall where he’d spent nearly an hour in the delicious rapture of Cassie Aldridge. His insides melted. Just at the thought of their lovemaking, he felt his passion surge.
Jamming a fist into his pocket, he shifted, ignoring the lofty lift of one of Denver’s dark brows.