by Tina Leonard
“Should I have left you sticking up? Seemed awkward to me.” Annabelle jerked open the bedside drawer to toss the bottle of painkillers inside.
“I would have thought of something. It wasn’t necessary for you to…crush me.”
“I suppose thanking me for saving you from humiliation would be too much to ask for.”
“I’d rather be slightly embarrassed than—”
“Oh, hush. You’d argue with the devil himself.” Annabelle glanced in the drawer. “If I give you a pain pill, do you think you’d O.D.? I don’t want that on my conscience, but I would love for you to go to sleep. How are you feeling in general?”
“I think the stars have faded from my vision. I’m only seeing black dots now.”
“Fine.” She started to slam the drawer shut, but something caught her attention.
Frisco’s breath caught in his throat. Surely she wouldn’t say anything about his stash.
“Is this what the well-dressed man wears nowadays?” She held up a condom in a bright package. “Striped with fluorescent colors,” she read. “And this one says it has stars and an interesting device on the tip for maximum pleasure.”
He’d take back the part about preferring humiliation to pain.
“I had no idea these things came in any other style besides plain old, plain old.”
“Now you know.” He wasn’t going to say anything more than that. He wanted her out of his drawer. “Would you quit rummaging around in there?”
She closed the drawer. “Sorry. But a guy who dresses to impress shouldn’t be upset if a gal looks at the suits.” Rising, she straightened the blanket briskly. “Did you really want this, or did you just need camouflage?”
“I’ll keep the camouflage.”
“I think that’s best.” She settled into the rocker across the room. “Go to sleep. Please.”
“You sit there and be quiet, and maybe I can.”
Shrugging, she opened a book, placing it in her lap as she curled up in the rocker. The dress slid to her knees and Frisco closed his eyes, shutting out the alluring picture she made.
If Laredo had ever wanted to punish Frisco for anything he’d ever done to his younger brother, he’d picked an excellent method.
Torture.
ANNABELLE RECOGNIZED at once that taking care of a newborn was a piece of cake compared to a male who was used to independence and overriding everything in his path.
Gently, she moved Emmie to a pallet on the floor, covertly studying the big man who was just as studiously ignoring her. His eyes were closed so she couldn’t see the dark-brown irises. Ebony brows complemented black hair which lay unruly against the pillow. He still had an obvious dilemma, which fascinated Annabelle. Surely it should have deflated by now? She thought about Tom and frowned. His hadn’t lasted so long. Nor had it been so…
“What are you reading?”
She started a little at the brusque question and hoped he hadn’t seen her staring at the blanket. “A romance.”
“Isn’t that a little racy for a new mom?”
“Happy endings are good for me.”
He was silent, looking at her with those dark eyes. Annabelle went back to staring at a page. She did feel a bit isolated now that she was a single mother. Her relationship with Tom had left her wondering if there was any kindling left to start a fire with if she ever met a man she might like. Tom had sucked a lot of the heat from her life.
She certainly hadn’t felt with Tom the way she did right now. Frisco’s laser-like focus on her made her feel as if she might burst into flames any second. It was best to quit pretending he didn’t affect her—she was pretty sure he’d figure out her secret soon if she wasn’t careful.
“Since you’re not going to fall asleep, I’m going to go downstairs and do some things. Call me if you need me.”
He was silent.
“Frisco, I’m just not interested in testing the water with anyone.”
“I know. I’m not, either.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I wanted to kiss you. I’m sorry.”
“I was tempted, you know.” It wasn’t necessary to beat his ego to smithereens.
“If that was tempted, you made Eve look bad.”
She smiled at him. “If things were different, if I didn’t have a newborn, I might be up for a quick kiss with a man I barely know.”
“I lost my mind for a minute, Annabelle. It won’t happen again. I sure didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
She smiled slightly. “Your leg’s broken. It levels the playing field quite a bit. I can resist from five feet away.”
“I wouldn’t want you unless you wanted me.”
“Okay.”
“Do you?”
She laughed. “No,” she told him, aware that the hopeful expression on his face was due to the painkillers scrambling his brain. Frisco and drugs were not a successful mix.
“Damn.”
“I could get Laredo to find you another nurse. There’re other Lonely Hearts ladies here.”
“No, thanks,” he said hurriedly. “I like you. But not in that way, of course.”
“Of course. Go to sleep.”
She left the room, her heart practically pounding in her ears. Too much man, too much temptation for her damaged ego to resist. Tom had never wanted her that way. Being the focus of Frisco’s intoxicated interest was way more flattering—and sensual—than anything she’d ever known.
It would be so nice to give in. He probably wouldn’t have remembered it tomorrow. Just a kiss. What would it have hurt?
Everything, of course. Because sometimes kissing was the start of something bigger.
And that was a risk she simply couldn’t take.
Chapter Nine
“So run this thing about the big-haired beauty queens across the street by me one more time. The…what’d you call them? The Snip-n-Snarls? Brush-n-Babes?”
Frisco’s voice in the dark startled Annabelle. She’d come in to sneak Emmie out of Frisco’s room. “I’m skipping storytime right now, Frisco. Go back to sleep.”
“I just want to know what makes your customers desert Ms. Delilah.”
Annabelle reached inside the bathroom and flipped on the light before closing the door. Just a crack of illumination shone into the dark bedroom. “We’ve long wondered ourselves. Delilah and her stylists are very good with hair, and the customers seem satisfied—until they find out about the shop across the street. One try over there, and the men never come back to us.” Including Tom, but that fact was redundant, no need to mention it again. “They attend church with nicks out of their hair, though, and it’s easy to tell where they were Saturday night. It’s almost like a visual roll call.” She lowered her voice. “To be honest, I’m not certain all those Cut-n-Gurls have beauty-school training. Delilah says she doesn’t know when Marvella would have gone to school.” She shrugged. “Of course, there’s not so much to cutting a man’s hair, I suppose. Their tool of choice appears to be clippers. You’ll notice the men who frequent their salon tend to sport short, uneven silhouettes, which has always reminded me of a golf course with divots missing here and there.”
“There has to be something you’re not telling me. And since I can’t sleep, I’m in the mood for a story.”
She was pretty tired. The men and women had all returned from sandbagging, sweeping out water, and whatever other duties they’d been assigned. She’d cooked dinner, had it hot and ready—a recipe from an old file she’d found in the kitchen—and fed what seemed like an army of people. Chicken soup, a monster-sized bowl of green salad, and King Ranch casserole. She’d given herself an A for Edibility, but it had meant a lot of clean-up time in the kitchen. Everyone was gone now, except for Laredo and Tex, who’d showered and gone to bed in their own rooms. Right now, she could fall asleep on the floor.
“I can’t tell you a story because I have to get some sleep. But I’ll give you a bit of gossip I’ve mulled many times since I heard it. Supposedly—and this is
just gossip, I certainly don’t know for sure—on the wall of their salon is written in big, sparkly gold letters: Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”
“I can see where that might be appealing.”
“Frisco!”
He chuckled. “I’ve been needing a haircut for a while now—”
“Frisco, I think I’d consider that desertion at the minimum and disregarding my confidences at the maximum. Now I’m going to bed.” He wasn’t supposed to have been amused, and he darn sure wasn’t supposed to be interested!
“Come on. I was only playing.”
“Playing dumb?” How could he joke after what she’d told him about Tom?
“Trying to keep you in here a while longer.”
“Not like that, you aren’t. Friends understand where the line shouldn’t be crossed.”
“I guess I didn’t realize we were friends, Annabelle. I’m happy to hear you say that.”
“I have to help you to the bathroom, don’t I? Surely assisting you makes us more than acquaintances.”
“You’re real antsy about that salon, aren’t you?”
She rolled her eyes in the dark. “To say the least, especially for Delilah’s sake. Anyway, how do you think you’d feel, if someone made a joke about someone you’d once cared about?”
He thought about Laredo teasing him about Annabelle. “I’d probably want to squish his head.”
“Lie real still so I can use your brand of revenge on you.”
“I wouldn’t really be interested in a woman who compared riding me to riding a horse.”
Her brows shot up; she could feel her face pink. She and Tom had made love once. It had been nothing like riding a horse. In fact, it had been more like…riding her first bike. One second she’d been on; the next second she’d tumbled to the ground.
“Annabelle, have you noticed how much this baby’s been sleeping?”
His soft voice shifted her away from her disheartening thoughts. “She’s obviously joining you in your lazy habits.”
“Hmm. Maybe she’s decided to give me a second chance.”
“To do what?” Ever since Frisco had held Emmie, she’d been charmed into sleeping better.
“To get to know her.”
“Frisco, my daughter is innocent. I no longer am. And I really don’t want to get to know you, if that’s what you’re implying. You’re a big, ornery male. I want peace and quiet in my life. I will never get that with you.”
“No, you won’t. I readily admit that.”
They were both quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Might as well lie down on the opposite side of the bed, Annabelle. There’s plenty of room. I promise not to even breathe on you.”
She was so tired. The alternative was finding another bed somewhere in the house, and frankly, she didn’t want to root through bedrooms in case she opened a door where one of the other brothers was sleeping. She wasn’t even certain there was another bedroom.
“I snore,” she told him.
“That will be annoying. I’ll toss this blanket over your head. The one you used on me.”
She giggled and edged cautiously to the side of the bed. “You should have seen your face.”
“You should have seen yours. You looked like you’d never seen a man in that condition before.”
Her smile melted away. She hadn’t—at least not like Frisco. But she wasn’t going to tell this irritating cowboy that. He was cocky and conceited, and she’d be embarrassed. Besides, that was all more private than she cared to share. “Shut up, Frisco,” she said, instead. “If I’m sleeping in here with you for the sake of convenience, you have to be quiet. You’re going to wake Emmie.”
“She’s used to my voice by now. She doesn’t even stir until she wants a bottle or a diaper change.”
Annabelle sighed to herself and slid into bed with her dress on, but decided that was uncomfortable. The little bit of light was necessary, but it left her having to sleep with her eyelet dress on. Dare she slip it off and doze in her underthings?
No. “Is the light bothering you?” she asked.
“I’d rather it be dark, but I didn’t want to suggest it. You’re awfully tense about us sharing a bed.”
“I’m tense about you in general,” she said, getting up to flip off the light. “Goodness knows, I can’t imagine why I feel that way.”
“I can’t, either,” he agreed, way too cheerfully for her liking.
“Good night, Frisco,” she stressed so he’d cease his teasing.
“Good night, Annabelle.”
She sighed as she hit the pillow. For a moment, she wondered if she would really be able to sleep in the same bed with Frisco, but in a way, she felt oddly comforted with him in the same room.
Even in the same bed.
“Dinner was good, Annabelle,” he said, sounding sleepy.
“Thank you.” She felt warmed by his praise. Okay, maybe he wasn’t all that bad. Cranky, sure. The truth was, she didn’t know what kind of man she could trust anymore. Tom had been all blond hair and blue eyes come-on, and she’d desperately needed that at the time. Her world had turned dark after her father died, and there was Tom, light and airy and interested. She had fallen like a sack of potatoes from a truck.
It would be textbook cliché now to turn around and fall for Tom’s total opposite. If she’d figured nothing else out about herself, it was that she was still grieving, still running—and sooner or later, a girl had to slow down.
“Annabelle?” Frisco said.
“Yes?”
“You sure are the prettiest housekeeper we’ve ever had.”
“I wasn’t aware you’d had any before.”
“I want you to focus on the compliment and not the comment.”
Her eyes snapped open in the dark. A shiver ran over her. Was he making a pass at her? Surely not. Certainly he seemed to like Emmie, but more often than not, he seemed out of sorts around Annabelle. “Um, thank you,” she murmured uncertainly.
“Annabelle?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you ever since I first laid eyes on you. I wouldn’t, of course. But I did think about it.”
Her breath caught for an instant. And then she dove in wearing only courage. “I’ve thought about kissing you, too,” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
To her surprise, Frisco rolled over to face her. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was close to her face. He smelled good, and his nearness touched her skin with warmth. Instantly, she wanted to get closer to him, pull him to her.
When he brushed her hair away from her face, she sighed with longing.
“I shouldn’t, Annabelle,” he murmured. “It would be ungentlemanly to take advantage of you.”
She thought she’d already had a man take advantage of her—and it hadn’t felt like this. Just Frisco’s voice made her shiver inside. She wanted him to touch her.
And then he did, with his lips. First, brushing against her forehead, and then along her cheeks. Then her eyelids. Annabelle’s insides seemed to contract, as if her inner soul knew exactly what it wanted from him. In spite of his size and his gruff exterior, Frisco was soft and gentle and not scary at all.
His lips touched hers suddenly, and Annabelle realized he’d been going slowly with her, gentling her. His patience made her relax so that she melted against him.
Frisco felt Annabelle give into him. It was a surrender.
He hadn’t expected it. She was so delicate and ethereal, like mythical magical moonflies beating their wings at night. He wanted desperately to catch her, to hold her, to rub her magic all over him.
Caught off-guard, his whole body afire, Frisco forced himself to pull away.
“Good night, Annabelle,” he said hoarsely.
IN THE NIGHT, the sandbags held back the water. Though the temperature struggled up above the freezing mark, the ice stayed on the roads.
“I’m hauling the ladies into town. They’re going to do some mopping and oth
er things,” Jerry told Annabelle. “Will you be all right here? Or do you and Emmie want to come with us?”
Emmie was behaving so much better that, as much as Annabelle would have loved to leave, she decided it was better for her baby to stay put. Frisco had a wonderfully comforting touch for Emmie’s colic. Helping out here was a small price for Emmie’s welfare. But just for tonight. “I’ll stay and cook. Jerry, when are you heading back?”
“Good Lord willing and the creek doesn’t rise, tomorrow, little lady. Why do you ask?”
She looked into his cheery blue eyes. “I need to get going myself.”
“Ah. Cabin fever?”
“Something like that.”
“Frisco fever?”
“Close enough to be right on the mark.” She sighed. “I’m just ready to move on.”
“Delilah says you’d been ‘moving on’ for a couple months before you came into her shop. That she hired you right off the street because you looked tired and haunted. Something eating you, Annabelle?” He gave her a kindly smile, his cheeks rosy from cold. “I got real big shoulders to cry on.”
“No. No, thanks,” she said hurriedly. “I’m fine. I just need to get back.”
“To the salon? I don’t know yet that the ladies are going back tomorrow. They may head farther east. They’re still on vacation, you know.”
“I’m not going back to the salon. Don’t tell Delilah, Jerry. I want to tell her myself, please.”
“Fair enough. We roll at 8:00 a.m. Can you and Emmie be ready?”
“We’ll be ready, Jerry. Thanks.”
He touched his cap and walked across the yard toward his truck. She headed into the kitchen, hurrying upstairs to retrieve Emmie before the baby began a full-scale assault for her bottle.
Frisco lay on the bed, sound asleep, his leg awkwardly propped up, his body turned uncomfortably. He was beautiful when he slept, dark and masterful. Emmie, unaware that she was sleeping next to a giant, had scooched up under his arm, her diapered rump in the air, her fist in her mouth.
Annabelle wished she had a camera. She’d like to remember Emmie having this moment with a man, nearly a father-figure. Maybe the only man who would ever nap with her like that. Her eyes clouded. Maybe I’ve just made a total wreck of my life and Emmie’s, she thought. The last thing I ever meant to do was hurt her.
