by Liz Isaacson
Clay picked up the bowl of chocolate and set it by him, and if Betsy didn’t watch him like a hawk, he’d eat it all before the night was through. Everyone put one piece in to play, and then the real fun started.
She’d been playing poker with these guys for a few years now, and she had all their tells memorized. She could see Wyatt’s bluff from a mile away, and called him on it in the second round.
Her cards won, and she swooped all the candy toward her with a cackle. Clay dealt next, and Betsy didn’t get great cards. She traded out a couple of them and decided to play with what she had, though it wasn’t win-able. She could tell by Clay’s sniff that his weren’t great either, and Flynn’s ducked head meant that he was trying to decide if he should even play the hand.
Knox she hadn’t figured out yet. He still looked a bit like he’d been hit in the face with a frying pan, his eyes a bit wider than normal and constantly scanning the table, watching what everyone else was doing.
She actually admired that, because he wasn’t loud or obnoxious. Of course, she’d never seen him speak louder than necessary, and he emanated a cool, quiet strength she really liked given her family’s loud, tense nature.
Sure enough, Flynn folded and Wyatt kept driving the bid up until Clay dropped out. Knox did just after that too, and Betsy studied Wyatt to see if he really had something or not. He stared back at her with his dark eyes, giving nothing away.
Which totally gave away that his cards could beat hers. “Fold,” she said, and he whooped. He placed his cards face-down on the table, and Clay immediately grabbed for them.
“A pair of eights,” he said with disgust, throwing the cards toward Wyatt, who was still scooping his winnings toward him.
Betsy shook her head. She couldn’t have beaten a pair of eights, but Wyatt had tricked her into thinking he had something really good. So she’d watch him closer. Bluff back.
Her eyes moved to Knox, and she couldn’t bluff her way out of the blush that heated her face when she found him watching her too. Their gazes locked, and she probably wouldn’t have known if the Yellowstone geysers blew up and started melting the planet. It would still just be her and him in this moment, because she saw something in his eyes she’d never seen before.
Maybe she hadn’t been looking. Maybe he’d been really good at hiding how he felt. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
But no matter what maybe she landed on, Betsy could definitely see that Knox held an edge of heat and desire in his eyes. The same desire she felt flowing through her blood like liquid lava.
A card landed in front of her, breaking their connection. She cleared her throat under the louder noise of Flynn saying he better get something good this time and picked up her cards. She’d always loved her time in the east stables, playing poker. It got her out of the homestead, for one. And for another, she always felt like she was worth more than the last dish she’d prepared.
Sure, the cowboys loved what she brought to poker night, but she’d also been known to drive into town and buy several bags of candy and call it good. They were okay with that too.
As the game continued and she won again and then again, Betsy couldn’t help thinking about the homestead. What would happen when her father retired for good and Rhodes wanted to move into the house where she and all her sisters lived? What if he met someone and fell in love, and they wanted the homestead to start raising their own family in?
Betsy had always known she wouldn’t be able to live in the homestead forever, but a certain level of fear had started to constrict inside her whenever she thought about leaving it. Mostly because she had no idea where she’d go or what she’d do.
“I’m beat,” Clay finally said, throwing down his last hand. “And my stomach hurts.”
Betsy looked at the empty bowl of ante and started laughing. “You’re such a pig, Clay,” she said through her chuckles, and everyone got up and started cleaning up the table.
“Does Rhodes know you guys play poker out here?” Knox asked as he sidled up next to her at the table.
“Oh, sure,” she said. “He doesn’t care, as long as I bring him some of the spoils.” She grinned up at him, momentarily blinded by his good looks and close proximity. It may have been her imagination, but her voice sounded full of only breath when she said, “That’s why I took him his own container of pulled pork earlier this evening.”
“Smart.” Knox smiled at her, and that moment came flaring back to life. “Do you need help getting all of this back to the homestead?”
“Yeah,” she said, seizing onto the opportunity to spend some time alone with him. “That would be great.”
He moved away, leaving a cold space at her side, to help with the table and chairs, and before she knew it, everything was cleaned up and everyone was ready to go.
The other cowboys loaded up in their trucks and left while Knox was still helping her put the leftover buns and the Crock pot half-full of meat in her backseat. Depending on what she brought, she sometimes walked from the homestead. But not with pulled pork, and certainly not in the winter.
“I’ll follow you over,” he said, stepping over to his truck. Betsy got behind the wheel of her car and inched down the road, her nerves firing like someone had poured red ants into her brain.
“Calm down,” she told herself. “He’s not going to kiss you or anything.” She wasn’t sure if she swooned or blacked out for a moment at the very thought, but the next thing she knew, her car drifted and then full-on slid into the snowbank. A horrible, metallic crunching sound met her ears, and she got thrown over the steering wheel.
Once she’d come to a stop, she blinked out the windshield into the darkness, trying to figure out what had happened.
And then the man she’d been dreaming about kissing opened the door and peered inside. “Are you okay? There’s a really icy patch right there.”
Yeah, sure. An icy patch. Betsy nodded and got out of the car, sticking her hands in her coat pockets so they didn’t freeze. “Will you just take me home?” she asked. “I can have the boys deal with this in the morning.”
“Sure thing.” Knox walked with her to the passenger side of his truck and helped her up and into it. Then he returned to her car and collected the food before joining her. “How often do you guys play poker?”
“Once a month,” she said, taking a deep breath of this space that was so full of the smell of him. Cologne and pine and burnt metal. She’d never get enough of it. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Surprisingly, I had a great time.”
“Surprisingly?”
“Yeah, well, monthly poker night isn’t really my thing.” He barely moved the truck down the icy roads, and they were probably going five miles an hour.
“I thought you did great.”
He chuckled, the sound sending tremors through her body. “Are you kidding? By my count, you won all but two hands.”
“You counted?”
He cut a quick glance at her, and dang if that didn’t light her up like Times Square. Not that she’d ever been to Times Square. But she knew it had a lot of lights. “I’m just observant,” he said.
“Sure, okay,” she teased, liking this tether between them. Her phone lit up, distracting her, and she groaned when she saw Rhonda Drexel’s name on the screen.
“What?” Knox asked.
Betsy turned her phone over and looked out the window. “Just something for the Valentine’s dance.” A completely fantastical thought entered her mind. “Hey, you should sign up for the bachelor auction for the festival.”
He belly laughed then, and the sound was so bright and cheerful that Betsy couldn’t help smiling. “I just said I didn’t really do poker nights. And you want me to get up in front of women and be bid on?” He shook his head and chuckled some more. “You’re out of your mind.”
“You don’t think people would bid on you?”
He turned down the road that led to the homestead, and Betsy sensed her time with him was almost up. “No, Betsy. I don’t
think the women of this town would bid on me.”
I would. The words filled her mind. Screamed in her ears. She swallowed, trying to hold them in. Knox parked in front of the homestead and unbuckled his seatbelt.
“I would,” Betsy blurted before he could get out of the truck. “I’d bid on you, Knox.”
His attention swung toward her, almost in slow motion, while she tried to figure out what she’d just said. His eyebrows went up. “Yeah?”
She nodded, suddenly desperate to get out of the truck. She grabbed the package of hamburger buns between them and opened her door. He met her at the front of the truck with the Crock pot and walked up the steps with her to the front door.
Inside, she said, “Just set that on the counter,” which he did while she tossed down the buns and started to unwind her scarf. She hung her winter clothes on a hook in the mudroom, noting the silence and stillness in the homestead that night.
Either poker had gone later than she’d thought or her sisters were downstairs watching a movie. Betsy was glad it was quiet, that she didn’t have anyone to tell about the night’s events quite yet.
Knox waited for her in the kitchen, and anticipation squirreled through her. “Do you want to stay for coffee?” she asked.
“It’s almost ten-thirty at night,” he said quietly, those foresty eyes delving right into her soul, learning all her secrets.
“Oh, right. I—” She went mute when he stepped into her personal space and took her hand in his. She looked down to see their fingers joined, and she enjoyed the river of heat as it cascaded over her entire body.
“It’s good to see you, Betsy,” he said, his voice nothing more than a husky whisper. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. Cold as his mouth was, it still sent sparks flying down her spine.
He pulled his hand away and fell back a step. Their eyes met, and that magnetic attraction between them flared to life. “I’ll see you later.” He turned and walked toward the front door as if he’d held her hand and kissed her countless times before. Not too rushed, not too slow.
“Knox?” she called when he put his hand on the doorknob.
He twisted back toward her. “Yeah?”
“When will I see you again?”
A smile touched his mouth and crinkled those beautiful eyes. “Maybe next week. I’m out at Granite Springs this weekend.”
She nodded. He ducked his head and walked out, leaving her with the glow and warmth of his touch.
There was no way she was going to be able to sleep tonight, which meant she’d probably get roped into doing something she didn’t want to do at tomorrow’s Valentine’s Festival planning meeting.
Chapter 4
Knox was bent behind a horse the first time his phone went off. He ignored it and exhaled, his breath fogging in the air in front of him. Betty Boop, this horse he currently had resting almost all of her weight on his thigh, couldn’t be given an inch or she’d kick him.
So he didn’t flinch when his blasted phone rang again. He kept filing, finally getting Boop’s hoof into the shape it needed to be in. He’d measured her yesterday and bent the horseshoes at the smithy at Quinn Valley Ranch in the afternoon.
They hammered on like a dream, and he released her with a pat on the rump. “Go on, girl,” he said as she huffed and walked away. “Yeah, I feel like that too,” he muttered after her, looking at his tools that littered the ground.
He inhaled deeply and ignored the twitch of pain in his back as he bent to clean up. Betty Boop was the last horse of the day out here at Granite Falls, and he really needed something to eat before he started gnawing on his own arm.
His phone vibrated as he moved, reminding him that he’d missed some calls. He pulled out his device and checked it, finding Logan to be the culprit. He’d even left a message, but Knox ignored that and navigated to the texts first.
Where are you? I need you at the community center.
Knox frowned at the words, imagining them to be said with terseness and frustration. Instead of barking something back via text to his twin, Knox called Logan.
“Hey,” he said easily when Logan picked up. “I’m down at Granite Falls, working.”
“Well, I’ve got a job for you at the community center.”
Knox blew out his breath, more perturbed with Logan than usual. He felt like his brother had beaten him to the punch—again. Gotten the girl first, even if it wasn’t the same girl.
“I don’t need a job,” Knox said. “I’m busier than I even have time for.” He’d been contracted to work at three farms and ranches in the Quinn Valley area, and it was a juggling act to keep his trio of bosses satisfied.
“Trust me, you want this one,” Logan said. “So you’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
“No,” Knox said. “I’m stopping for lunch.”
“I’ll buy you lunch.”
Knox opened his mouth to argue but paused. Logan was offering to buy him lunch? This must be serious. Still, he sighed in a long hiss. “Fine,” he said. “But I want it waiting for me when I get there. I’m starving.”
“You’ll have your lunch. Get here quick.” Logan ended the call before Knox could yell to him to go down the street to Bacon Boys, the best burger joint in a hundred miles, maybe more.
If twins really did have some sort of freaky powers of communication, he hoped Logan would hear him as he said, “Double bacon stacker,” as he picked up the last of his tools and tucked them in his apron. “Candied bacon fries. The biggest Diet Mountain Dew they have.”
His throat itched in the worst way, and he couldn’t feel his fingertips as he started for his truck. By the time he pulled up to the community center, he’d realized that he hadn’t checked in with Liam before he’d left the ranch. His boss on the small operation said he had something for Knox and to stop by the homestead before he left.
Tomorrow, he told himself as he got out of the truck. The sky was intensely blue without a cloud in sight. Because of that, the cold that attacked his lungs felt like knives stabbing through his chest.
He hurried toward the entrance of the community center, his stomach roaring at him for meat and cheese and bacon. Logan pushed out of the doors before Knox could get there, and he held up a bag from Bacon Boys.
Relief flooded Knox, and he swiped the food from his brother with a grin. His twin was also smiling like a fool, and Knox cocked his head. “What’s with you?”
“Come see.”
“See what?” Knox didn’t come to the community center very often, because he wasn’t interested in yoga classes or pickleball or making pies.
Logan didn’t answer; he simply went back inside. Knox followed, opening the bag and grabbing a couple French fries. They didn’t come out well because of all the cheese, but he managed to get a bite of food into his mouth.
He groaned at the salty, crispy potatoes, which earned him a chuckle from his brother. Logan went into the small gymnasium behind the check-in desk, and when Knox entered too, he saw several tables set up along the perimeter, with people milling about.
“What is this?” he asked, digging past the fries for the burger. He could eat that one-handed if he had to.
“There was a meeting today for the Valentine’s Festival,” he said. “And they need volunteers.”
Knox frowned. “So what? I don’t have time to volunteer.”
“Well, I already signed us up for the construction of a dance floor and to fix the stage. It’s got a lot of rot they just found.”
“Logan,” Knox said, peeling the paper back on his double bacon stacker. “You’re the carpenter.”
“But I need your help,” he said.
“You do not. You could build a house from the ground up all by yourself.”
Logan nudged Knox, almost knocking the burger out of his hands. He threw him a dirty look, only to find him grinning at someone across the gym. Knox followed his gaze, the burger really slipping from his fingers when he saw Betsy Quinn standing there with her sister.
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“Whoa there, bro,” Logan said, steadying Knox’s burger. “Now do you get it? I think she signed up to work on the dance. Hint, hint.”
Knox tore his gaze from Logan. “But you’re dating Georgia.”
“So what?” Logan asked. “Believe it or not, Betsy and Georgia aren’t the same person.”
“You don’t think it’s weird?” He bit into his burger, forgetting everything but the taste of that fatty meat and that melted, American cheese. Oh, yeah. This trip to town had been well worth it, especially because he’d gotten this burger for free.
“No,” Logan said. “I don’t think it’s weird, and I know you like her.”
Knox wanted to ask him how he knew, but the needs of his stomach won out over asking questions. When he finished the burger and wiped his fingers clean, he said, “Betsy said she’d bid on me if I did the bachelor auction.”
Logan’s eyebrows shot toward his cowboy hat. “Are you going to do the auction?’
“Heavens, no,” Knox said with a scoff. “I don’t need to embarrass myself in front of anyone.” Least of all the gorgeous Besty Quinn. He looked at her again, seeing that she’d moved to a different table. “You really don’t think it’s weird if I ask her out?”
“Do you like her?”
Knox shrugged. “I mean, I guess.” It sounded like a lie even to him.
“Go sign up for the dance,” Logan said, nudging him again.
Knox was tired of being elbowed, so he took his French fries and crossed the gym to the table beside Betsy. The sign-up sheets there were for the bake-off and the Valentine decorating. Both of those were a hard pass for Knox, and he casually moved over to the next table.
He breathed in and out before Betsy said, “Knox,” with a heavy dose of surprise in her voice.
“Oh, hey,” he said reaching for the pen next to the sign-up sheet to help with the dance. Her name sat several lines up, and dang, if his heartbeat didn’t pitter around in his chest. He managed to scrawl his name on the next blank line while he said, “How did your meeting go?”
“Oh, it was fine,” she said, and he knew she was being kind.