I frowned. Lie. “You okay?”
She sank her teeth into her toast and nodded, still not quite looking at me. After she swallowed her bite, she lifted a single shoulder. “I’m sorry about all the stupid stuff I do. I just…I don’t know anything about rural life or ranching. I’m from the city, born and raised.”
“No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I do. I was a jackass to you, and I’m sorry. It just scared the tar out of me when I saw you in danger like that. All I could think of was how awful it would be if I lost you.”
“Would it be? Awful, I mean?”
“Hell, yeah. I just found you.” We stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. “Yes, it would be awful.”
“I’m trying my best, Clint. I’ve just never done any of this before. Until I arrived a week ago, I’d never even seen a cow before, except on TV and in magazines. I’m trying so hard to do it all right, and I just need a little patience.”
“You’re right.” I nodded and rested my hands on the table. “You deserve that, and I’m sorry. What made you decide to come out here and make a go of it, anyway? The whole town was figuring you’d just put the place up for sale. No one dreamed you’d actually want to take on a small ranching operation in the middle of nowhere.”
Her eyes shifted away, and she cleared her throat. “I watched a lot of Westerns growing up and always thought it might be my life’s calling to…uh…be a cowboy. Cowgirl.”
Another lie. She was hiding something. And this wasn’t the first time she spouted off a fib. I’d heard mistruths from her since the very first moment I met her. I’d let it go, figurin’ she had her reasons for keeping secrets from a man she just met. But I was her husband now, and she was lying right to my face. Again. Why?
“Tell you what. If you’ll forgive me, I’ll promise that from now on, I’ll try harder to be gentler with you and more patient and not be such an insensitive jerk. Whaddaya say? Deal?”
“Hmm…” She straightened her shoulders and twisted her face in contemplation. “Not too gentle? I like a little roughness.” She winked and I about fell out of my chair. Was she flirting with me?
My dick hardened instantly. I promised myself I wouldn’t push her, and I meant it. Still, a little flirting was a good sign. I sure wish I knew why she felt the need to lie.
“Whenever you want a little roughness, you let me know, sweetheart. I’ll give you all the roughness you need.” I flashed her a suggestive grin.
She giggled. “Deal, then. So how soon before I can file paperwork to get my last name changed? Samantha Eastwood has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Sensing another lie in her tone, I sighed. “Courthouse is only open on Thursdays and Fridays. So it’ll be a few more days.”
“Oh, okay.” She bit at her fingernails and nodded to herself. “That’s fine.”
I bent over and placed my hand on the table next to her, holding her gaze. “You’re going to open up to me about a few things one of these days, I hope.”
Her eyes widened and her teeth began gnawing on her lip.
I straightened and blew out a breath.
Gentle, Clint.
Patience, Clint.
She’s a Norm, Clint.
I bit my tongue and softened my voice. “I look forward to that day.”
She shifted uncomfortably, pushed away from the table, and moved to rinse her plate. “Should we get to work?”
“Yep. Today, I’m going to show you how to fire Pappy’s old shotgun. If I’m not around and there’s another snake in the henhouse, blow it to smithereens.”
Her face paled. “No, thank you.”
“It’s something you need to know how to use, Sam.” I moved toward the bathroom, still needing to get ready for the day. “Go on and check on the cows. I know you’re dying to. But do not climb the fence and enter the pasture. You want me to have patience with you, no more putting yourself in a position where you could accidentally get trampled. I’ll be out soon.”
“Clint, I’m serious. I don’t think I want to shoot a gun. I don’t even want to touch one.”
“What if that wolf comes back threatening to hurt another one of the cows?” I hated to wield such a low blow, but I would feel a lot better knowing she could shoot straight.
She glared, then turned and stormed out of the house. Outside, I could hear her muttering under her breath—something about me and a horse’s ass.
As frustrated as I was with her, seeing her mad did funny things to my insides and made me smile involuntarily. I peeked through the window at her cute backside. It wiggled, even more than normal, as she stomped angrily across the yard toward the barn.
I grinned wider and shook my head.
I was so out of my league.
Chapter 14
Shay
Somewhere along the line, Clint seemed to realize that my physical strength had limitations and, even though I hadn’t said anything or asked him to, he went easier on me, shouldering the brunt of the chores himself.
It wasn’t just the workload either. The man really was more tolerant and considerate. Understanding, even.
Clint hadn’t even made fun of me when I told him that I thought the cows had been through a major trauma and needed extra TLC. He let me brush them and sing to them without a single wisecrack—just this once.
Next time I did it, he said, he’d be cracking wise all over the place.
He still made me target shoot, though. He took me to the very back edge of the property and set up a row of tin cans on the ground. He called them phony rattlesnakes and wouldn’t let me leave until I shot two of the cans in a row. I hated every second of it, and my shoulder hurt afterward, but I didn’t argue. He was right—knowing how to shoot straight might save my life out here.
All in all, I was grateful to have Clint at my side. He may be gruff and grumpy sometimes, but even when he was, there was an underlying genuineness to him. Blunt, yes, but honest and real. No pretense. After Robert, that was refreshingly welcome.
I watched Clint as he scraped the old paint off the side of the barn. His muscles undulated under his T-shirt, straining the lucky fabric as he reached higher.
I sighed happily, content despite already being sweaty and gross from a long morning.
Working hard on the ranch was satisfying. It felt good.
“What are you smiling about?” Clint looked back at me with a grin of his own.
I hiked myself up to sit on the tailgate of his truck, my legs swinging. “Today is good.” I shrugged. “I feel…optimistic.”
“Once some of these larger chores are caught up, and the place put back in shape, the days will be easier. Pappy had plenty of people around town willing to lend a hand, but he was a stubborn old coot and wouldn’t accept it. Mean as spit when anyone dared defy him by helping out without his permission. You should have seen the ruckus he put up when Elton and Elvis patched the barn roof after a particularly bad storm took off a layer of shingles.”
“He was well loved.”
Clint scratched the scruff on his jaw and nodded. “He sure was.”
“I wish I would have had a chance to meet him. Do you think he would have been disappointed in me? How I’ve handled the ranch?”
“Doubt it.” Clint snorted. “He mighta got a good laugh. You’ve mollycoddled the animals something rotten. And them cows could win beauty pageants.”
“Hey!” Laughing, I tossed a rag at him. “I’ll have you know the cattle have never been happier.”
He dropped the scraper and sat next to me on the tailgate. “That much is true.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes. “You said you came to live with Pappy when you were six. What happened to your parents? You haven’t mentioned them. Do you remember them?”
“Pappy’s the only parent I ever knew.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but changed his mind. “How ‘bout you? You haven’t mentioned your parents.”
I nodded, absently fingering the locket
containing pictures of both my parents that hung around my neck. “They died in a car accident when I was fifteen. I stayed with relatives for the next few years until I went off to college.”
Clint studied me. “I get the feeling there’s more to that story.”
My aunt, uncle, and two cousins had all but abandoned me after I was accused of a federal crime. It hurt that they assumed I was guilty without even asking to hear my side, but looking back, I think they had always resented being burdened with me. I couldn’t tell Clint any of that, though.
I just shrugged. “Nope. Not really.”
Clint’s jaw clenched. His eye twitched. “Sure. Right.” He pushed away from the truck and began heading back to the house. “Whatever you say.”
Ouch. I should have known Clint was too smart not to have noticed my weirdness. I sucked at lying. He probably saw right through me. He was probably angry. Maybe even regretted marrying me already.
Good job, Shay. Married little more than a day and already your new husband’s fed up with you.
I decided to wait a while to give Clint time to cool down before I followed him inside. I spent the time searching the overgrown garden for salad fixings and found some lettuce, green peppers, and a couple of carrots.
The shower was running when I entered, so I got to work making homemade pasta dough and, after scouring the shelves of preserves until I found the tomatoes, I made some sauce.
When I heard the shower turn off and rustling coming from Clint’s room, I left the sauce to simmer on the stove and the pasta dough to rest under a cloth, and ran to the bathroom to take a fast shower myself.
The water went from lukewarm to frigid in seconds, so my shower was quick. I pinned my hair up and dressed in denim cutoffs and a white tank top that made my new farmer’s tan pop.
When I emerged, the look on Clint’s face was pensive. Until he glanced up and saw me stepping out of my room. I would’ve had to be blind to miss the way his eyes hungrily scanned my body before a smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “You look beautiful.”
Little flutters danced in my belly.
Does that mean I’m pardoned for being deceitful and secretive?
I smiled like a fool and pointed to the stove. “I’m making us dinner—pasta. Is that okay?”
He nodded, but his eyes didn’t bother looking where I was pointing. They stayed fixed on me. “Absolutely.”
“Okay, it’ll be a few more minutes.”
Clint watched me as I rolled the pasta dough out with an old wine bottle. I willed my hands not to tremble, and I was successful for the most part.
I realized I’d screwed up. I should have married someone I had zero attraction to. The chemistry between Clint and me was off the charts. And judging by the way he eyed me, I had no doubt he was feeling it too. Being so close to him made my pulse race, my heart flutter, and my brain short-circuit. Of course, putting a hot temptation like Clint into a marriage that’s supposed to be platonic was a recipe for failure. I was beginning to feel as though we were like two comets set on an inevitable collision course.
The crash was going to be epic.
I thought I did a great job pretending to be unaffected by him—cut the pasta evenly, put a pot of water on to boil, cooked the pasta for a few minutes. Yay, me.
Then like an idiot, I glanced over at him. His hair was damp, his T-shirt clung to his chest, and his eyes—focused intently on me—smoldered with barely tamed desire.
I dropped the bread I was holding. It hit the floor.
Clint ran his hand over his beard scruff as he came closer and smiled at me. I smiled back, still holding a butter knife in the air
“Five-second rule?” He bent over and picked up the bread, his eyes crinkling in laughter. His palm grazed my lower back as he leaned over to see the food I’d prepared. “This looks amazing. Thank you for cooking.”
A hard day’s work built up an appetite, and we spent several minutes in silence as we sat, prepared our plates, and shoveled food in our faces.
“Delicious.” Grinning, Clint nodded toward his plate. “How’d you learn to make homemade bread and pasta?”
Without thinking, I answered honestly. “I taught kindergarten for ten years at a school really focused on play and experiences. I made so much playdough from scratch with the kids, so much slime and other things like it, that I finally decided I’d make edible dough. It’s not all that different, and it tastes so much more rewarding in the end because you can eat it.”
“What made you quit teaching? You sound like you enjoyed it.”
I frowned. The question was one I’d asked myself so many times in the past couple of years and even more so in the last few months. The answer wasn’t one I could lie about. The truth didn’t reveal too much, so I opted to share. “My ex put so much pressure on me to give up working so I could stay home and take care of him, that I finally gave in.”
With a grunt, Clint shook his head. “No wonder you wanted a platonic marriage if that’s where you’re coming from.”
“It’s easy to convince yourself that something was your own idea if another person is persuasive enough.” I shrugged. Trying to give off the vibe that I was over the hurt and betrayal, I forced a smile. “I’ll do the dishes. Maybe we can watch the sunset after?”
“You cooked. I’ll do the dishes.” He stood and grabbed my plate before I could stop him.
“I need something to do. Let me. You can rest.” I trailed behind him to the sink and stood as he turned on the water.
“How about you just gather everything. I’ll wash and dry.” He nudged me with his elbow. “What kind of husband would I be if I let you cook and clean?”
“Uh…a normal one?” I laughed as I scooped up the pots I’d used and piled them beside him. “If you’re gonna wash, at least let me dry.”
As he washed the plate in his hands, he looked me in the eye. “Only if you tell me the real reason you’re here on this ranch instead of back in Washington, DC.”
I took a step back involuntarily. I hadn’t expected that question. He was the town sheriff, though. Interrogations probably came naturally to him. Of course, he was going to want to ferret out the truth. Thinking about how to answer him took too long, and the tension hung in the air between us, growing thicker with every second that passed. I had to tell him something, and I really didn’t want to lie—not again. “The same ex.”
Clint grabbed one of the pots and began scrubbing it. His voice softened. “He hurt you?”
Flashbacks of the last time I saw Robert clouded my vision. It had been only shortly before I bolted. Tendrils of fear clutched at me as the memories returned, and I shivered. “Y-yes.”
“Hey.” Noticing my reaction, he dropped the pot and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “You’re safe now. As long as I’m around, you are safe. I promise you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Even if I am a horse’s ass.”
I inhaled sharply. “You heard that?”
He nodded, grinning. “I deserved it.”
I blew out a big breath and shrugged. “Well, to be fair, I was trying to have a shouting match with a rattlesnake, so you did have justification.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I think you were winning. The ornery critter didn’t quite know what to make of a woman screaming hysterically at him as she scooped up hens left and right.”
“Alright, alright. Rub it in. Go ahead.” I poked him in the side playfully and splashed him with some of the soapy water.
He splashed me back and chuckled when a clump of soap suds stuck to my chin. “Wait until word gets out how you mollycoddle them cows, brushing ‘em, and singing to ‘em. Betty’ll probably do a write up about it in Rattler Tattler.”
I faked a gasp and scooped up more soap suds to splash up at him. “It better not get out, Clint Eastwood. You get me written up in the paper, you better start sleeping with one eye open. Not that there’s anything wrong with coddling cows. They like it.”
He caught my arm wh
en I tried to throw the handful of suds at him, so I blew them instead. Which worked. The clump of suds hit him right between the eyes.
“This means war, cow whisperer.”
With a swipe of his large, cupped hand, he splashed a wave of water at me from the sink basin, dousing the front of my T-shirt. I squealed and grabbed his arms, wrestling them away from the water.
With ease, Clint pinned my arms behind me and held both wrists in one of his hands, laughing menacingly as he gestured with his free hand toward the sink.
“You better not!” I laughed hard as he splashed me again, soaking me. I pressed forward and into his chest rubbing myself on him and getting him just as wet as I was. “Ha!”
Clint let go of my hands. Our laughter slowly died out when we both realized how tightly our bodies were pressed together. His arms were wrapped around my waist—it had happened so easily, so naturally, that we’d barely noticed. With my fists full of his shirt, I noticed now. He did too, if the hard length digging into my stomach was any indication.
I watched as his gaze traveled from my eyes to my lips.
Chapter 15
Clint
I had a one-track mind. A mind on a mission, and nothing could deter it.
The mission? A taste of Sam’s sweet lips. My only thought. My only focus. I met her gaze again and leaned in slowly but purposefully, giving her time to move away if she wanted to.
She didn’t.
“You are incredibly beautiful.” My voice sounded thick and throaty, even to my own ears.
I lifted her until she was perched on the counter then slid between her open legs, nestling my erection against the apex of her thighs. My hand raked up over her bare calf, over her knee, toward the fringe of her cutoff shorts.
She was all soft curves and smooth, silky skin, and I wanted nothing more at that moment than to tear off her clothes and explore her body—all of it, every inch.
Softly, I sucked her bottom lip between mine. Kissing Sam was like taking a first breath—exhilarating, cleansing, life affirming.
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