He stood in the shadows to the left and didn’t greet her. “Follow me,” he said and turned, his oversized hood completely obscuring his face.
He strode down the hall, she assumed toward his rooms, although she’d never gone in this wing of the house. Mrs. T had been clear about that on her first day here.
The dim light showed everything in shades of dark gray. At the far end of the hall, he stopped and turned to the left, where a spiral staircase branched off and up.
“Watch your step,” he said. “Hold onto the rail.” He grabbed the rail as his feet clomped on the stairs. When the clomping stopped, she heard a click then a squeak as a door opened.
Taking a breath, trusting Ford would not allow anything to happen to her, she walked up the stairs. They twisted in a tight spiral, and it felt like they went on forever, but she figured it was probably two stories.
When she reached the top, Ford waited beside the open door. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer and more gentle than it had been.
It flowed past her, mingling with the scent that was all his, stirring her soul, seeping right down to her bones. “Yes.”
She walked past onto the small observation deck, breathing deep and savoring the scent she’d not even realized she’d missed until just then.
He closed the door and joined her under the stars. “I dug my telescope out while you were gone.”
It stood on a tripod just a few feet away on the far side of the small deck. She wasn’t sure if she were more excited about the telescope or the fact that they were going to be very close in proximity. Her curiosity poked her in the ribs.
The wind blew, and she hunkered down farther in her jacket.
“Maybe it’s too cold?” he said. She couldn’t see his eye, but the opening of his hood faced her. The moon was a little more than a quarter, and she could see a chiseled jaw. Firm lips. She stared, mesmerized. His lips looked perfect. Unblemished. Darker gray than the skin of his face. Unsmiling. They flattened and moved.
She heard his voice like one hears thunder seconds after the lightning flash. “Are you okay? Cold? Afraid of heights?”
Her chest moved in and out in shallow puffs. Her heart did laps in her chest. Every coherent thought in her head had fled.
“Morgan?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. If his jaw was any indication, Ford had been gorgeous.
“Come on. Let’s go back.” He turned, taking a step and moving to open the door.
“No.” She coughed. “I’m fine. Just surprised.” Total understatement.
He turned, standing where he’d been before, with the moonlight allowing her to see his jaw and lips again.
“It’s okay if you’re afraid of heights,” he said. “We don’t have to stay here.”
His lips moved as he spoke, and the movement fascinated her. She caught occasional glimpses of straight, white teeth. The cleft in his chin deepened when he talked.
She swallowed, and it sounded loud and harsh in the silence. The wind blew again, and she pulled her eyes away, looking out over the flat North Dakota landscape. “I love heights. I bet during the day you can see for miles from here.”
“Yeah. It’s a nice place to watch the sunrise.”
“So the telescope is your surprise?” Why would he have asked if she saw it?
“No.” He stepped toward it. “You’ll see it sometime. Not tonight. Are you sure you’re not cold?”
The wind was chilly. “Not too cold to look at Sirius.”
“Then the professional can go first.”
She moved the telescope around so it faced the southern sky. The tripod was set perfectly for her height, and she wondered if he’d done that on purpose.
She adjusted the magnification and fine-tuned it. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to look through one of these. This is a good one.” Like she would have expected anything less. “There’s Sirius. Oh, it’s putting on a show tonight.” The blues and reds shimmered and sparkled.
She straightened and stepped back against the rail. “You look.”
He came forward, bending slightly, and silently observed. Finally, he straightened. “You’re right. It’s beautiful.” His voice was slightly husky, and he didn’t move for a moment. Neither did she.
The wind swirled around them, but she no longer felt the cold. In fact, she was warm.
“Show me more,” he finally said, flexing his wide shoulders under his hooded sweatshirt.
She found Jupiter and focused in on it, looking for a little while herself before stepping back. “There’s Jupiter. This is a good scope. The Great Red Spot has been fading in recent years, but you can see it clearly. Off to the left in almost a diagonal line, you can see four of its moons, too.”
He bent, looking through it. “Yes, I see.” His voice was laced with excitement. It made her smile.
After he’d looked for a while, he moved back, and she said, “Let me see if I can find the Andromeda Galaxy. You’ll love this.” She found Cassiopeia and then the white spot that was a little southwest of it.
Adjusting the settings on the telescope, she brought it into focus. “Ah, yes. This is amazing. Check it out.”
He moved carefully into position behind the telescope. As he looked, Morgan put her hands under her armpits to warm them and hunched down against the wind.
“What is this?” he asked in awe. “A complete galaxy?”
“Exactly. That’s the Andromeda Galaxy.”
He looked at it, unmoving for a long time before he unbent and turned to her. “That’s amazing. In all the time I’ve spent looking through the telescope, I’ve never seen anything like it. Thank you.”
“A lot of people think you need to have the scope on the highest resolution. That’s not always the case, but it also helps to know where to look.” She talked easily. His head was turned in a slightly different direction, and she couldn’t see his lips and chin.
He took a small step closer to her. Her heart thundered.
“I said thank you.” His voice was soft.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m impressed.”
His words made her lips turn up.
There was only maybe a foot between them, if that. She stared into the darkness under his hood. His hand twitched at his side, and he swallowed, just before a gust of wind, stronger than all the others, shook the platform and grabbed his hood, lifting it off his head and shoving it back.
His entire head was exposed to the moonlight as the wind settled and died down.
He reached to pull his hood back up. She put her hand on his forearm, stopping him.
He didn’t move.
Neither did she.
Her eyes roamed over his face. The square jaw, the firm lips. The bold, straight nose. A chiseled cheekbone on his left side and one eye, dark as the night, staring down at her. She wished for light so she could see the color. A sky-deep blue, she imagined.
Their gazes met. His deep, slightly brooding. Resigned.
She had no idea what he saw in her face. Wonder? Curiosity? Desire.
Stepping closer, she lifted a brow before tearing her eyes from his and letting them roam over the right side of his face. A puckered hole where his eye used to be. A short stubble was all that was left of his brow. Twisted and light skin over his cheek. His ear was mostly gone, and there was a big bald spot that covered his skull over his ear. The rest of his hair was long enough to curl slightly, and some of it hung down over the scar area an inch or so.
Under her hand, his arm trembled. Her fingers heated and burned.
Scared that she would say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, she was desperate to let him know that she wasn’t repulsed, she wouldn’t have nightmares, and whatever she felt for him was stronger and deeper than it had been five minutes ago.
Moving her hands slowly, she reached up and cupped his cheeks. One, slightly rough with stubble that dug into her palm, felt like a man’s cheek should. The other, with smooth rid
ges and soft scar tissue, didn’t.
Her thumbs ran over his cheekbones. His eye closed, whether in enjoyment at her touch or because he was fighting her without moving a muscle, she wasn’t sure.
“Thank you, Ford.” Her throat was closed up tight, and her voice barely squeezed out.
His eye opened, and once more their gazes collided, hot and turbulent. Some type of invisible current seemed to rip between them, and she forgot to breathe. She wanted to move closer, to slide her hands around his face and turn their touching into an embrace, but she didn’t want to ruin whatever trust he’d placed in her.
His hands came up and gripped her forearms. The left, strong and whole, with long, supple fingers and tapered nails. The right missing two fingers and appearing more like a claw. Without thinking of the consequences, she leaned her head forward and kissed the end of the knuckles on his right hand where his fingers used to attach.
The air around them seemed to vibrate for one stunned moment.
Then he whirled around and went to the door, opening it and charging through. His steps echoed down, down, until the sound faded and all that was left was the wind and the stars and Morgan, standing alone on the observation deck, her lips tingling, her hands burning, and her heart beating thump after painful thump.
~~~
“Ford, how ya doing?”
“Just great, Rem. You?” Ford stood on the observation deck the next morning, watching the sunrise, his phone to his ear. His friend Remington Martinez from Texas was on the line, having just called him. Despite the chill, Ford hadn’t bothered with his big hooded sweatshirt. He’d locked the door behind him, so he knew, even if Morgan tried, which he doubted she’d do, he wouldn’t be interrupted.
Except with a phone call.
“Same old crap, different day. Dad’s still threatening to disown me, like I didn’t bail his butt out with my bull-riding money back when oil dropped and he almost lost everything.” His deep Texas twang colored every word, giving his speech a salt-of-the-earth authenticity.
“Some things never change.” He and Rem had met online and done some business dealings together not long after Rem’s dad almost lost everything.
“You coming down to Texas for the winter? It’s going to be about seventy-five degrees and sunny today.” The way he said “five” made it sound like two syllables and almost like he was auctioning the temperature off. Even that didn’t tempt Ford.
“That’s because God knows Texans are big wussies that can’t take the cold.” Like he could leave his heart in North Dakota. The colors of the sky spread
“You mean you can’t stand the heat.”
They bantered like this every time they talked. Remington was a great guy who’d do anything for anyone, though.
“There still oil jobs up there? I’m thinking I might need to put some distance between the old man and myself.”
“Thought you had a fiancée?”
A pair of blue eyes flashed through his mind. Eyes that, just last night, had seemed to not care about how he looked.
Rem gave a short laugh. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? The wedding was this weekend.”
“Congratulations,” Ford said. Funny that he hadn’t gotten an invitation, but Rem probably realized he wouldn’t go.
“Yeah. She married my brother.”
The sunrise faded out of his vision, and his full concentration was on his friend. “What?”
“Yeah. When Dad said he was going to disinherit me and leave everything to my little brother, she suddenly realized it was him she wanted all along.”
“I thought she was pregnant?”
“Lost it.” For the first time, there wasn’t an ounce of humor in Rem’s tone.
“Sorry about that.”
“I don’t think she was.”
Something in his tone said there was more to the story, but Ford didn’t pry. “I think the oil expansion up here will slow down until spring.”
“I don’t know if I can stay here that long. I’m thinking about joining the guerrillas and fighting in Venezuela. There’s oil there.”
Ford wasn’t sure if Rem was kidding or not. Probably not. “Drugs, too. You’re gonna need more than a sidearm and a Bowie knife to deal with that. I was looking at some businesses in Mexico, but it’s too corrupt. Not worth it.”
“You’re probably right. I need to do something, though. I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay here.”
Thoughts of last night flittered through Ford’s head. Morgan’s face. How capable she’d been as she showed him a whole new view of the stars. Literally and figuratively.
Her eyes. Her lithe body. Her soft hands. Her fingers stroking his cheeks. Both of them.
She’d seen him.
The thought made him want to run away.
But she hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t turned away in revulsion.
Rem was still waiting on the other end of the line.
“I’ll keep an ear out and see if anything comes up.”
“I’d hire on as a ranch hand through winter. I’d sooner face the cold up there than deal with the drama here.”
Ford considered Sawyer, but Sawyer couldn’t afford to pay, so that was out. “I’m sure there’s something. Give me a week or so. You can start up and stay here until something comes up if you need to.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that. I have some business to take care of in California, so maybe I’ll just take me a road trip.”
“You do that. Show up here anytime. The oil won’t be booming again until spring, but there are jobs everywhere here. I can find something for you to do.” It was true, there really were a ton of jobs, but even if they couldn’t find anything Rem wanted to do, Ford would invent something. He owed his friend that much. He was one of the few business associates who had seen Ford’s face. Rem hadn’t cared. He’d had buddies who’d been torn up on the bulls, so he understood. Hazards of the job.
“Okay. Give me a month or so. Maybe I’ll spend Christmas in Alaska. Maybe there’ll be a crab boat looking for another hand. Who knows? I’ll see you in the spring at the latest.”
Ford had watched some of Rem’s old bull-riding tapes. The guy was fearless. Whatever his fiancée, brother, and dad had done, it sounded like he was hurt now too. A bad combination in a man.
“Just drive straight up here, Rem. I’ll fix you up.”
“We’ll see. Gotta go.”
They hung up. Most of the color had faded out of the sky. As Ford looked around, something moving below caught his eye. He looked closer.
Morgan walked along the driveway, her head turned to the sunrise. As he watched, she stopped and faced it, chin up and eyes closed. A stiff breeze blew her hair back, and her hands remained tucked in the pockets of her puffer jacket. She wore jeans and hiking boots and was more beautiful than the sunrise.
She stood like that for a bit, but almost like she could feel him watching, she opened her eyes and turned toward the house, her gaze directed to where he stood on the observation deck at the top of the roof.
They stared at each other across the distance. He wasn’t wearing his hooded sweatshirt, just a black, long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. His face and head were uncovered in broad daylight. She could see the deformities, sure, but not the details. But she didn’t look away in revulsion. She seemed as attracted to him as he was to her.
Or maybe that’s what he wanted to think so he made it his reality. He wasn’t sure.
Still, she didn’t look away, and neither did he. He almost thought, with the way she returned his stare, that maybe there could be a chance for them.
He thought about what Sawyer had suggested—try to charm her.
What did he know about “charming” a woman?
Next to nothing. He wasn’t sure he even believed that he’d be able to “charm” her. Surely someone like Morgan, with her talent and beauty and sharp intelligence, wouldn’t settle for someone like him?
The sun had popped up over the horizon, the change happened qui
ckly, and Morgan lowered her gaze. Turning, she walked toward the house.
Maybe he’d lay low for a bit and set about launching a “charm” campaign.
Chapter 9
After watching the sunrise, Morgan tackled the list that Ford had given her the week before.
Some of the little things, like file papers and check social media accounts, responding to any comments or complaints, were easy to do. Some, like trying to coordinate a time for all seven of Ford’s potential buyers to meet together with him, were a lot more difficult.
Mrs. T came up with a tray at ten, just after Morgan had given her name and number to the third secretary for a callback.
Morgan sniffed the air. “Is that a chocolate caramel cappuccino?”
Mrs. T’s wrinkled face roped into a broad smile. “It is. And that’s a slice of cinnamon coffeecake beside it.”
The combination might be odd to others, but it was one that she adored. She never had it because of the calorie content.
“How did you know?”
“Ford said it was your favorite.”
“How did he know?” Maybe she should be concerned she had a stalker, but she was more awed that he’d cared to find out about her.
She snapped her fingers. “I bet he checked out my social media. I’m pretty sure I have a few pictures pinned.”
“He didn’t tell me.” Mrs. T adjusted the tray. “Just gave me directions on what to have.”
“Then you had to make a trip to town pretty early this morning.”
“Nope. There’s a delivery service. It isn’t cheap, but they do a great business bringing things out to folks who live way out like we do.” Mrs. T’s face was still beaming.
Morgan picked her cup up and took a small sip, figuring that Mrs. T wouldn’t care that she wasn’t drinking it properly. “Thank you so much. This is amazing!”
“You’re welcome, honey. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will. Thanks.”
Morgan picked up her fork with a grin. She’d be sure to thank Ford tonight when they looked at the stars together.
But Ford didn’t send her a text about meeting Monday night. When Morgan couldn’t stand the suspense any longer, she went into the solarium on her own, carrying Lolli.
Cowboys Don't Marry the Beauty Page 10
