The Rancher's Best Gift

by Stella Bagwell

  The sound of the door creaking open caused his head to turn back to the house, and he suddenly found himself staring straight into Camille Hollister’s face.

  “Hello, Matthew.”

  “Hello, Camille.”

  A long stretch of silence passed, and all the while Matthew could hear a pack of coyotes yipping in the far distance, while closer to the house the penned cattle continued to bawl in protest.

  Red Bluff was wild, rugged land and far from town or any kind of civilization, yet Camille lived here alone. What kind of twenty-eight-year-old woman made such a choice? The kind that was still nursing a broken heart?

  He was trying to answer that question as she pushed the door wide and gestured for him to enter.

  “Please, come in,” she said. “I hope you haven’t been knocking long. I dozed off on the couch. And the walls of the house are so thick it’s hard to hear outside noises.”

  “I’ve only been here a minute.” He stepped into the kitchen and blinked as she switched on a light hanging over the table. The room basically looked the same as it had the last time he’d been in the house, and that had been at least five or six years ago when Blake and Maureen had come down to stay a few days during fall roundup. For the past couple of years since Camille had moved in, Matthew and the men had steered wide of the ranch house.

  “Sorry it’s so late,” he apologized. “I hope you didn’t wait up just to let me in. I have a key.”

  She shut and locked the door, then walked over to where he stood. Matthew desperately tried not to notice the soft scent of flowers emanating from her hair and skin. It swirled around him and pulled his gaze to the gentle features of her face. She’d always been beautiful, but tonight she seemed to be even lovelier. Or was that because he’d not seen her in two long years?

  “I didn’t know whether you had a key or not. But it’s no big deal,” she said. “I usually don’t get into bed until eleven anyway. Uh, would you like something to eat, or drink?”

  “Don’t worry about feeding me,” he said. “I can fend for myself.”

  Her lips pursed together as though his answer offended her. “I didn’t ask whether you could fend for yourself. It’s a simple question. Are you hungry?”

  She sounded so much like her mother, Maureen, he very nearly smiled. “Put like that, then yes, I’m hungry. But it’s late and I’m tired. I’ll grab something in the morning.”

  To his complete surprise, she clamped a hand around his arm. “Come with me,” she said in a tone that warned him not to argue.

  With her hand still burning a ring around his forearm, she guided him out of the kitchen. Before they reached the living room, she turned to the left and down a long hallway. Soft nightlights glowed from the baseboards and illuminated the rich tile on the floor. The walls were decorated with huge framed prints of the Hollisters and the ranch hands doing various jobs here on Red Bluff.

  She came to a sudden stop and pointed to one of the photos. “Just in case you’re wondering if you’re in any of these, here’s one of you and Daddy. Remember that day?”

  Shoving the brim of his hat back off his forehead, he stepped forward and peered at the picture. The image struck him hard.

  “I’ve never seen this before,” he said, his voice thick. “That horse is Dough Boy. He always bucked when you first got on him, so you had to be ready. Your father was riding him that day. We’d been gathering cattle in Lizard Canyon. Dough Boy was a real gentleman that day and Joel joked that he was the only cowboy on the ranch who could ride him.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Isn’t it ironic that Daddy was on Major Bob the day he was killed instead of Dough Boy?”

  Ironic? No. Matthew’s views on Joel Hollister’s death were no different than those of the family. No matter the horse he’d been riding, Joel would’ve died that day because someone had meant to kill him.

  “I’d rather remember other days. Not that one,” Matthew told her.

  He heard her long sigh, and then the hand on his arm was urging him toward the nearest door to their right.

  “This will be your room while you’re here. I could’ve given you one overlooking the courtyard, but I figured you’d rather have the best mattress than the best view.”

  She pushed the door open and gestured for him to enter. Matthew felt like he was stepping into the room of a Mexican villa. The dark wooden furniture was heavy, the bed fashioned with four posts that nearly touched the ceiling. The tall headboard was intricately carved with the images of blazing suns, fighting bulls and trailing moonflowers. At the windows, thick burgundy-colored drapes were pulled to show a moonlit view of the desert mountains.

  “Is that one bag all you have?” she asked.

  “No. I have another case in the truck, but I don’t need to unpack it tonight.”

  She nodded. “Well, just put your things wherever you like. There’s a private bath through the door over by the closet. Make yourself at home.”

  He moved into the room while thinking with each step that he didn’t belong in this house with this woman. They were both too rich for his blood. But being here was Blake’s order and Matthew would bend over backwards to make the man happy. Not because he was his boss, but because Blake and his three brothers were like his blood brothers and always would be.

  “Thanks. This is nice.” He placed his duffel bag on the green-and-burgundy-patterned spread, then glanced over to her. “I—uh—think I ought to tell you that it wasn’t my idea for me to stay here in the house.”

  “I never imagined it was.”

  Although he didn’t know why, he felt the need to further explain. “Blake sent an extra man this time. There wasn’t enough room for another bed in the bunkhouse.”

  She shrugged. “No problem. You won’t bother me. And I’m gone most of the time so I shouldn’t bother you.”

  Maybe not, but she sure as hell was bothering him right now. Strange how he’d not remembered her looking exactly like this. Her hair had grown and now reached the back of her waist. She was wearing some sort of loose flowing pants made of flower-printed material. The top that matched had a low V-neck, and when she turned a certain way he could see a hint of cleavage. Before she’d left Three Rivers she’d been extremely slender. Now she was voluptuous and it sure looked good on her, he thought.

  “Don’t worry. The men and I have so much work to do while we’re down here that I doubt our paths will cross much.”

  Her plush lips curved into something close to a smile. “Go wash up and come back to the kitchen. I’ll have something for you to eat.”

  He wanted to argue with her, but he knew it would be a losing battle. And why bother? After tonight, he expected she’d leave him to see after himself.

  “All right. Thanks.”

  Chapter Two

  Back in the kitchen, Camille opened the fridge and pulled out a ribeye steak she’d been marinating. As she heated an iron skillet and tossed in several hunks of butter, her mind spun with thoughts of Matthew Waggoner.

  When had he turned into such a hunk of a man? She’d not exactly remembered him being so broad through the shoulders, his waist so trim, or his legs being that long and corded with muscles. And that blond, blond hair. He used to wear it buzzed up the sides. Now it was long and curled against the back of his neck and around his ears. But it wasn’t just the hair or the breadth and strength of his body that had caught Camille’s attention. There was something different about his rugged features. Perhaps it was the hardened glint in his gray eyes or the unyielding thrust of his jaw. Whatever it was, he looked too damned sexy for her peace of mind.

  A mocking laugh trilled inside her head. Just what I thought, Camille. You weren’t really serious when you swore off men for the next ten years. You take one look at the Three Rivers foreman and you start swooning like a silly schoolgirl. Snap out of it, girl! You have nowh
ere else to run to!

  Run? No, Camille thought as she shoved the voice right out of her head. She wasn’t going anywhere. And she wasn’t afraid of her heart or anything else getting tangled up with Matthew. She’d known the man since she was a teenager and they’d hardly been anything more than acquaintances. Nothing was different now. Nothing at all.

  She was still frying the steak when Matthew returned to the kitchen. He’d not changed out of the clothes he’d been working in, but he’d knocked off most of the dust. The long sleeves were rolled up to expose thick forearms burnt to the same nut-brown color of his face. He’d left his hat behind and Camille decided he must have run wet hands through his hair. Damp tendrils fell across his forehead and tickled the tops of his ears.

  Just looking at him caused a flutter in her stomach.

  “Go ahead and have a seat at the table, Matthew. Would you like a glass of wine or a beer?”

  He pulled out a chair at the end of the table and sank into it. “A beer would be nice.”

  She carried a tall bottle and a glass mug over to the table and set both in front of him. “If you’re wondering if I’ve turned into a drinker, don’t worry. I mostly keep beer and wine to cook with.”

  “I wasn’t thinking anything like that,” he said.

  She went back over to the gas range and switched off the blaze under the steak. By now the French fries were done and she loaded a pile of them along with the steak onto a large plate, then gathered a small bowl of tossed salad from the fridge.

  When she set the whole thing in front of him, he cut his gray eyes up to her. “This is overdoing it, Camille.”

  Her heart was beating fast and it had nothing to do with his words and everything to do with the way he was looking at her, the way he smelled, the way his masculine presence filled up the small kitchen.

  “What’s wrong? I cooked the steak too long?”

  He shook his head. “This is not a part of the deal.”

  “What deal? I didn’t know we had a deal?”

  He made a flustered sound as he reached for the knife and fork she’d placed next to his plate. “I’m not your guest. I’m here to work cattle.”

  “You don’t have to tell me why you’re here, Matthew.” She left the table and walked over to the cabinets. “You’ve been doing this for years.”

  Yes, fourteen years to be exact. When Matthew had first gone to work for Three Rivers Ranch, Joel had brought him and four other hands down here to Red Bluff. The work had been exhausting, but the special time working closely with Joel had changed Matthew’s life. He’d found the father he’d always needed and the home he’d never had.

  She plunked a bottle of salad dressing along with a pair of salt and pepper shakers in front of him. “You want any ketchup or steak sauce?”

  Her question pulled him out of his memories and with a tired sigh, he pulled the plate toward him. “No, thanks. This is good.”

  Once he started to eat, he thought she might leave the kitchen and go on about her business. Instead, she pulled out the chair angled to his right elbow.

  “Looks like Blake sent plenty of cattle this time. I saw the extra pens.”

  He glanced at her. “He’s been on a buying spree. When prices drop, your brother takes advantage.”

  She smiled wanly. “Blake always did know how to turn a profit.”

  The steak melted in his mouth, a fact that surprised Matthew. He would’ve never guessed Camille could do much in the kitchen. Reeva had ruled as the Three Rivers house cook for long before Camille had been born and the woman wasn’t the sort who wanted to share the domain.

  “I guess you’ve taken to living here on Red Bluff,” he said. “You’ve been gone from Three Rivers for a long time.”

  She slanted him a shrewd look. “Did my family send you on a fishing expedition?”

  He chewed another bite of steak before he answered. “That’s funny. But I’m too tired to laugh.”

  “What’s funny about it? You’re a part of the family. You know as well as I do that they’re trying to figure me out—or come up with a way to get me back to Three Rivers.”

  He glanced over to see a smirk on her face, but whether her ire was directed at him or her family he couldn’t guess.

  “I didn’t ask you anything,” he said. “I only made an observation. Guess the subject of you living here on Red Bluff is a prickly one.”

  “You know it is.”

  Deciding it took too much energy to talk to this woman, he focused on finishing the food on his plate.

  Quietness settled around them until she spoke again. “Sorry, Matthew. I didn’t mean to sound so—defensive. It’s just that I’m beyond weary of answering my family’s questions. They can’t accept that I want to live here and leave it at that.”

  “They think you’re still pining over that Danby guy and that makes them worry about you.”

  Her lips pressed to a thin line. “For your information and theirs, Graham Danby is a thing of the past,” she said firmly. “I’m perfectly happy living single and I have no interest in the male population in Yavapai County, or here in Cochise County, or anywhere else for that matter.”

  “Okay.”

  His simple response didn’t ease the frown on her face.

  She said, “Since my personal life seems to be fair game, maybe it’s time I asked you a few questions. Like have you ever gotten over your failed marriage with Renee?”

  Although he was stunned that she’d brought up the subject of his divorce, he realized he couldn’t tell her to mind her own business. Not without looking like an ass.

  “Renee who?”

  She snorted. “You can’t fool me, Matthew. That was what—at least ten years ago and you’ve never remarried. You’re either still crazy in love with the woman or too scared to try marriage again.”

  He stabbed his fork into the fries. “Your first assumption is dead wrong. Your second one is not exactly right, either.”

  Her vivid blue eyes continued to peruse his face, and Matthew wondered what she was looking for. A sign of weakness? A crack in his armor? Well, if anyone could find it, she could.

  He said, “I’ll admit that when Renee and I divorced it knocked me off my feet.”

  “It shouldn’t have,” she said bluntly. “I could’ve told you before you ever married her that she was all fluff.”

  He scowled at her. “How would you know that? You were only a teenager back then.”

  “A girl doesn’t have to reach the age of twenty before she learns how to spot a female piranha.”

  He grunted. “Men are slow learners.”

  A faint smile touched her face. “The last I heard you were dating a redhead from Yarnell. Are you getting serious about her?”

  “No. I haven’t seen her in more than a year. And I’m not planning on getting serious about anyone. I’m going to leave marriage up to you and Vivian, and your brothers.”

  Her face went void. “Leave me off that list, Matthew. The chance of me ever marrying is as about as good as snow falling here on Red Bluff. And that’ll be a cold day in hell.”

  The bitterness in Camille’s voice matched the feelings he’d carried around inside him for all these years. He understood the humiliation she’d gone through when Danby had chosen another woman over her. He’d felt that same sting when Renee had left him high and dry.

  “So what do you do with yourself now?” he asked. “I imagine it’s awfully quiet around here when the ranch hands aren’t around.”

  Faint surprise arched one of her delicate brows. “You mean none of the family has mentioned my job to you? That’s a shocker.”

  He shook his head. “No. You found an office job over in Benson or Tucson?”

  Rolling her eyes, she got up from the table and walked over to the cabinets located directly behind him.

  �
�Lord no! I’d have to be starving to death before I ever work in an office again.”

  He glanced over his shoulder to see she was filling a coffeemaker with grounds and water.

  “Why? That is the reason you went to college,” he stated the obvious. “What are you going to do? Let all that education go to waste?”

  He didn’t know why he’d let himself be sucked into such a personal conversation with this woman. Maybe because in the quieter moments of his life, he’d often thought of her and hoped she was happy.

  With the coffee dripping, she walked back over to the table and took her seat. “No. That isn’t why I went to college. I worked to get my degree in business management because that’s what Daddy wanted for me and I promised him I would.”

  “He died shortly after you graduated high school. He would’ve never known if you’d chosen to take a different path.”

  “Maybe not. But I would have known it. I made a promise to him and I wasn’t about to break it.”

  Her loyalty to her father didn’t surprise Matthew. Even though Camille had never been the cowgirl that her mother and sister were, she’d been very close to Joel, and he to her. Perhaps because she was the baby of the family, or perhaps it was the fact that she was so different from Vivian that Joel had been extra protective of his youngest.

  “So if you don’t have an office job, what are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m a cook in a diner over by Dragoon.”

  Hearing she’d been hired on as a cook was almost too much for his tired brain to register. “The population can’t be three hundred there. I wasn’t aware it had an eating place. I only remember it having a few houses and old buildings.”