by Laurie Paige
He’d go for a hell-for-leather ride, but sure as he did, the ranch hands would wake and think it was a rustling operation. That’s all he needed—for them to come running out, loaded for bear, and find him restless and unable to sleep.
Hell.
He’d never been in a fix like this before. He was acutely aware that through the door separating the bedroom from the sitting room was his wife. Once he’d heard her cough. That had been soon after they’d eaten their sandwiches—their wedding supper—and she’d gone to her room, saying she was tired.
After that, he’d heard her in the bathroom, then she’d disappeared for the rest of the evening. He’d watched TV until ten, then he’d gone to bed. And here he lay.
One o’clock.
Dawn came early on the ranch. They had a bunch of calves to brand, the one part of the operation he didn’t like. But it had to be done before he turned them loose on the hilly range that formed the backside of the ranch. If his cattle strayed over on Tisdale land or vice versa, he didn’t want any questions about which ones belonged to whose ranch.
He wondered what Molly had meant by that “until the time is right” remark. When would that be?
Marriage. It made him nervous. The female mind was beyond him. Elise had claimed to love him, but she’d hated being tied down, being pregnant. In the end, she’d hated him.
He didn’t want the same to happen to him and Molly.
His body reared up at a sound… no, it was a coyote baying at the moon. Molly wasn’t going to come waltzing in and climb into bed and…
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to count backward from a hundred. Finally he fell thankfully into slumber.
Sunlight and the rush of running water awakened him the next morning. He lay there and listened while Molly took a shower. He wondered how she’d react if he joined her.
The pure pleasure of the thought entertained and tortured him until she finished. When he heard the door open, he didn’t know whether to pretend to be asleep or not. Too late. She was in the room. Her eyes met his.
She paused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to awaken you.”
She wore a robe of pink silky looking stuff with pink scuffs on her feet. Her hair was twigged on top of her head. She walked through the bedroom and into her room as if she were out for a Sunday stroll.
A grin pushed its way onto his mouth. Bet if he checked her pulse, the little schoolmarm’s heart was beating like sixty. The way it had Saturday night three weeks ago…
At the clenching in his lower body, he dropped the thought and flung out of bed. In the bathroom, he paused before stepping into the shower.
Her scent lingered on the warm, steamy air. Two new toothbrushes had joined his in the toothbrush holder. A box of curlers, the kind that plugged in and heated up, sat at the end of the counter next to the wall.
A damp towel and washcloth hung neatly across the bath towel rack. A new bar of clear soap was in the soap dish. He lifted it and took a sniff. It had that fresh, clean scent he associated with her.
For the first time in days, he relaxed. They’d work their way through this marriage business. Molly was sensible. As soon as she got used to the idea, things would settle down. Then, when the time was right…
Molly prepared biscuits, ham and country gravy, which she’d learned to make since living in the west. It was an odd dish that cowboys, whether they were real or urban, seemed to relish. Made of bacon, sausage or ham drippings, thickened with flour like a white sauce, and milk, it was easy enough to prepare.
Except she replaced half the grease with vegetable oil to cut down on the saturated fat.
When Sam entered the kitchen, she ignored her wildly pounding heart and assumed a serene expression. She’d be so calm, so sweet, it would drive him nuts. “Breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes. Tell the men not to be late. I don’t want the gravy to get cold.”
“Uh, sure.” He fairly rushed out the door.
She smiled grimly. Marriage was going to take some getting used to…for both of them. She’d learned the men usually ate together, taking turns with the cooking. She had some ideas along those lines to share with them.
Begin as you mean to go on.
Good advice for anyone starting on a new adventure. And marriage was surely that. Thus far it had been full of twists and surprises. She had a few twists of her own.
When she heard a cry from the baby’s room, she turned off the burner, checked the biscuits in the oven, then hurried down the hall. Lass had pulled herself up at the side of the crib and was hollering for attention. She hushed as soon as Molly came in. Holding her arms up, she demanded to be held.
Molly cuddled her new daughter for a moment, the anger inside her softening slightly, then changed the baby’s clothing before returning to the kitchen. After placing the child in the high chair with a toast triangle to chew on, she poured up the gravy and finished preparing breakfast.
When the men shuffled into the kitchen, she welcomed them with a cheery, “Good morning. Have you washed up?”
She saw that they had. The two ranch hands, whom she’d met briefly the previous week, had wet and slicked back their hair. The tooth marks from the comb were visible. They carried their hats in front of them like shields. She could see the dip in their hair where the hats usually rested.
Like Sam, they dressed in jeans, scuffed boots and work shirts. Their wiry grace fascinated her. Two stereotypical characteristics impressed her. They were as tough as whip leather, and they were shy.
“Please take your seats, gentlemen. Breakfast is ready.” She moved Lass closer to the table.
After placing the basket of biscuits on the table, she took her place at one end and looked over the table with a critical eye. Frankly it looked delightful. Her mother would have been proud of her.
A green vase held some dried seed heads of a lovely golden hue. She’d found them along the fence row near the stable. The green-and-white striped place mats went well with the dishes, which were white with a dried wheat pattern along the edge.
The bowl of scrambled eggs, the platter of ham and the dish of gravy provided a nice contrast in color and texture. She took a biscuit and passed the basket along, then spooned some egg onto her plate. The men sat after she did and dug in.
For several minutes the muted sounds of forks against plates were the only noise. Molly observed with mounting awe the amount of food three men could put away in a short time. Amazement gave way to irritation when they ate without speaking.
“The past week has been lovely,” she remarked to no one in particular. “I hope it bodes well for the rest of spring.” She waited for a response.
The cowboy named Sandy broke open another biscuit—his third—and spooned gravy over the two halves. He forked another slice of ham onto his plate.
Tom sprinkled a generous helping of pepper over a second mound of perfectly cooked eggs. He slathered margarine on a biscuit, added a thick layer of jam, heaped a fluffy clump of egg on the edge of the biscuit and chomped it off with a look of pure delight on his face. His jaws worked vigorously.
Both men were in their mid to late twenties. Old enough to have manners.
Down the length of the table, Sam ate as silently, although not as voraciously, as his men. Her irritation doubled.
“Do you get to rest on Sundays, or do you have work that can’t wait a day?” she inquired, maintaining an even tone.
Chomp, chomp.
She took a deep breath—
“Gentlemen, my wife expects people to answer when spoken to,” Sam informed them. “We are civilized folks, aren’t we?”
She saw the sardonic humor in his eyes before she quickly looked away. Was he making fun of her?
Anger and confusion roiled in her. She intensely disliked both feelings.
The two men stopped stuffing their faces and stared at her in the manner of startled bucks, not sure whether to bolt or not in the face of this possible, but unknown, danger.
Molly cr
imped her lips together to keep from saying something hateful. She reminded herself that indeed civilized people did not resort to shouting and insults.
Sandy’s ears turned red. “Uh, we have some chores.”
“But we have most of the day off,” Tom offered. He held a half-eaten biscuit in his hand. He looked at it in longing.
Molly thought if he ever looked at a girl that way, he’d melt her heart like sun on snow. Her own heart softened. She’d tame these wild broncos in time.
All of them, she vowed, looking at her husband, who. watched her with a moody stare while he ate.
Nodding, she ate her meal, allowing the men to do the same.
Lass clicked her tongue and waved her hand toward the table, wanting the adult food. Before Molly could rise, Sam was on his feet. He prepared jars of cereal and fruit.
“I’ll feed her,” he said.
Lifting the high chair, he placed Lass close to him and began feeding her, his expression serious as he concentrated on the task. Lass ate until her hunger was satisfied, then she started flirting with her father.
After getting no more than a preoccupied smile from him, she enlarged her scope to include the other two men. Sandy winked at her when she clicked at him.
“Ah, Lass has made a conquest,” Molly teased, detecting a soft spot in the men’s hearts.
“She’s a heartbreaker, this one,” Sandy agreed. He nodded his head toward his plate. “Appreciate the grub. I ain’t had nothing this good since I got out of the army five years ago.” His ears turned red again.
“It’s kind of you to say so.” She gave him her teacher smile that complimented a student who’d done well.
Sam wiped Lass’s hands and face. “Last week he said my beef stew was the best he’d ever eaten.”
“Well, it was pretty good,” Sandy admitted. “First time you hadn’t burned it.”
The two cowhands laughed. Sam smiled.
Molly thawed somewhat. Her husband was a very handsome man when he stopped scowling at the world. She’d see that he smiled more often. It was one of several changes she intended to make in his life.
She struggled with anger while she wondered at the real reasons for their marriage. To protect her good name?
He’d been furious at the gossip about them and felt he’d caused it he’d said in that insulting explanation he’d made.
He had, but it took two to tango, as the saying went. If she’d been seen in his arms, she was as much to blame as he was. She had been as lost in that kiss as he had. More so, if the truth be known. She hadn’t wanted to stop.
She wanted that mad, breathless passion again. She also wanted declarations of undying love. But it was obvious she wasn’t going to get either of her wishes.
All night she’d tried to sort through things, but it had been hopeless. She didn’t feel calm and logical. For one of the few times in her life, she wanted to shout and throw things. It was an insight into herself that wasn’t pretty. It even shocked her a little.
Most of all, she felt cheated. She’d waited for years for the right man, well, not exactly waited…
Actually she hadn’t thought much about marriage at all—she’d been busy establishing her school—then to have all these strange longings awakened by this one man was humiliating. He was her husband, but he didn’t want to be.
There. That was the one insulting, inescapable fact she’d had to face during the long, black night.
It made her angry. It made her want to scream at him and demand to know why they’d married.
Protect her name? As if she needed someone to do that for her. She was a responsible human being and a darn good nursery schoolteacher. Her reputation was impeccable. Those who didn’t think so were welcome to think whatever they liked.
She hadn’t asked to fall in love, hadn’t dreamed of finding someone she’d want to share the intimacies of marriage with. It was patentedly unfair.
Noticing Sam staring at her over his coffee cup as he drank, she jerked and nearly dropped her own cup. She glared at him.
He continued to study her. He looked as perplexed as she’d been when he’d taken her to the guest room.
The oaf. He hadn’t a clue as to why she’d felt insulted by his supposed reason for wedding her.
To have one’s dreams flung back in one’s face, to find a love she hadn’t expected, hadn’t asked for, and realize it meant nothing, to be rushed into a marriage and find it wasn’t a marriage… She couldn’t bear thinking about it.
She clenched the cup as anger rolled through her once more. Maybe she didn’t understand all the motives behind this ill-conceived merger, but she wasn’t going to walk out.
Sam had married his first wife in the heat of the moment, so to speak. It had not turned into a happy union. Now he was married again, forced into it by his strong protective instincts, which no one seemed to notice but her.
However, she wasn’t completely naive about the male-female relationship. There was a physical attraction between them. She suspected he was a sensuous, earthy man. To her amazement, she’d found she was something of the same.
With his first marriage, there had been nothing behind the passion. With her, Sam had a friend.
They both loved Lass and this harsh, beautiful country. Sam had seemed to enjoy her company during the month prior to his proposal. Having seen his love for his daughter, she knew he was a good man, capable of deep caring.
A flicker of hope overlapped the doubts. Maybe, just maybe, this marriage had a chance after all.
But on her terms, not his.
She lifted her gaze from her cup and gave him stare for stare. Luckily the two cowhands kept eating and didn’t notice the tension between the boss and his lady…partner, she corrected. She took a deep breath. It was wise to have a plan.
Molly, the ever sensible.
“That was very good,” her husband said when he finished.
He looked every inch the boss of the outfit. He’d been wearing a denim jacket when he came in. He’d hung it on a hook by the back door along with his hat. The other men had done the same. All three were at home on this rugged land.
She was the outsider here. She’d have to make a place for herself on the ranch as she had in the town. Summoning a smile, she responded to the compliment. “Thank you.”
“Let’s go, you guys. If you eat much more, you won’t be worth a plug nickel the rest of the day.”
He stood. So did Tom. Sandy wolfed down a last bite of biscuit with jam, then joined them.
“Be sure to rinse your plates before you put them in the dishwasher,” she reminded them, starting her begin as you mean to go on plan with a sweet smile. “I’ll clean up the rest of the kitchen this time. Next weekend, we’ll take turns as usual.”
There was a beat of hesitation, then Sam took his plate to the sink, rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher. The two cowboys followed his lead.
Finished, the three men grabbed their jackets and hats and left the kitchen.
“Good thing Sunday is a light day,” Molly heard Tom say, loosening up once he was away from her inhibiting influence. “Did’ya notice Sam was moving kind’a slow this morning, Sandy? Half the chores were done before he showed up.”
Molly felt a blush highlight her face. Sam’s ears turned red. “Get on with it,” he ordered gruffly, pausing before stepping off the porch. He returned to the kitchen. “Will you be okay here for a while?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll get the sides on the hay truck. We’ll pick up some of the things at your house if you know what you want moved.”
“I do.” She laid her napkin aside and crossed the room. “What time will you be ready to go?”
“Around one.” He glanced at the kitchen. “About lunch—”
“I have a roast started. On weekends, I usually prepare something that will last the first part of the week for leftovers and sandwiches.”
“We can hire someone to help,” he told her. “Someone could do th
e housework.”
“I was thinking along those lines, too.” She forced herself to nod agreeably. “I think we can work it out, don’t you?”
Her question seemed to confuse him. “Uh, yes.”
“I have a high school girl helping at the nursery in the afternoons. She has a friend who’s interested, too. I think I’ll hire them and ask Tiffany to close at night, so I’ll get to the ranch earlier.”
Sam stood there by the door, not wanting to leave the warmth and brightness of the house. He felt funny inside, sort of squeezed and anxious.
His new wife watched him without speaking. Her eyes were like curtains of mist this morning, obscuring her thoughts from him. He didn’t like it. He wanted things as they’d been last month. All the world had seemed right then, as if things were finally going to go his way.
She seemed to be waiting for him to finish and leave. It irritated him—that wall of calm she’d erected between them. He stalked toward her.
Her eyes opened wider, but she stood her ground when he came near. He recognized defiance in her stance. It surprised him.
But then, so had her fury yesterday. Maybe she wasn’t as open and easy to read as he’d thought.
She lifted her chin and waited for him to speak. Talking wasn’t what was on his mind. Gone were his good intentions, his restraint. In their place was a burning need to remind her she hadn’t found him all that repulsive in the past. He took hold of her upper arms and pulled her toward him.
Then his conscience kicked in.
He tried to ignore it, but couldn’t. With a sigh, he gave up and loosened his hold on Molly. Truthfully he wasn’t certain what she thought of touching and all that.
However, she had been caught up in a sensual daze that night in her kitchen. Still, he didn’t want to shock her. He’d have to keep a tight rein on things.
He bent down slowly, carefully, giving her time to withdraw. She stiffened, but she didn’t move away. He brushed her lips with his.
Her mouth was warm and sweet. Longings that he hadn’t felt since he’d left home to make his way in the world stirred in him. He wasn’t sure what they were.
