He lifted a palm. “But this character is going to mess up eventually. His—or her—luck will run out, and I’ll nail him.” Slade’s gaze echoed his promise with an intensity that sent a sensual heat curling through her.
She gave him a confident smile. “I believe you. And I believe in you.”
He seemed startled by her trust in him and covered by shifting his attention to the pasture fence. “Everything looks good out here and...that’s all I had to talk to you about if you’re ready to head back in.”
So in addition to compliments about his kindness, Slade was uncomfortable with expressions of faith. Why would a man with so much good in him eschew any recognition of his integrity and gentleness? Why would he hide it behind such a stern face most of the time?
As they rode back toward the stable, Amanda moved the conversation to a safer topic. “So other than finding your father’s killer and the person behind the recent attacks—” she shot him a side glance “—what do you want for Christmas?”
His dark eyebrows drew together. “Christmas?”
“You know...December twenty-fifth. Lighted trees and exchanging gifts with friends and family? It’s just over a week away.”
His shoulders drooped. “Crap.”
She snorted a laugh. “Well, aren’t you full of the holiday spirit?”
He flashed a chagrined smile. “I didn’t mean... It’s just I haven’t even thought about Christmas.”
“Then you don’t have any ideas what you want?”
He gave her a hooded look that smoldered with meaning. “Oh, I know what I want.”
An image of Slade in her bed flashed in her memory, and a sensual heat flowed through her. “Hmm, I think the same thing is on my list.”
His cheek hitched up in a sexy crooked grin. “Good.”
When he sobered and gave her a worried look, Amanda’s gut clenched. “What’s that look for?”
“About last night...”
Chapter 16
She swallowed hard, not liking the dark turn in his mood. They’d put off talking about where their relationship would go. If they even had a relationship...
Amanda took a deep breath of winter air. “What about last night?”
He hesitated, then met her gaze with a penetrating stare. “I just want to be sure we’re on the same page about what happened. Next time, I’ll—”
“Next time?” she asked with a grin. “Are you saying you think there’ll be a next time?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Amanda, we have good chemistry, and we’re consenting adults. I’ll go back to Jackson when the case here is closed, but until then...”
Her heart dropped to her toes. When he went back to Jackson...
She’d known Slade’s presence on the ranch was temporary, warned herself not to develop feelings for him.
“Until then I’m convenient and willing?” she asked, repeating the words she’d used in jest last night and not bothering to hide her hurt.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But it’s what you meant. Right?”
He sighed and looked away. His silence spoke for him. It seemed she was more right about Slade’s unavailability than she’d known. Pain lanced her heart. He was leaving soon, and clearly only wanted a fling while he was at the ranch.
After a moment, he nudged Zeus and rode closer to her. Touching her face, he narrowed a sorrowful gaze on her. “Amanda, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I’m just not in a place in my life where—”
“No, no...I get it.” She forced a smile, determined not to let him see her disappointment. “We made no promises to each other, and there are no hard feelings. But I’m not the type to indulge in a meaningless fling. I need more, so...” She took a breath for courage, gave him a brave smile, and pulled away from his touch. “There’ll be no next time.”
She gave Prince William a little kick and headed back toward the ranch. Clearly she’d picked the wrong man. Again. But that was her fault, not Slade’s. She wouldn’t punish him for her own mistake.
Was she so eager to have what her sisters had found, so desperate to build a family for Cheyenne that she’d imagined feelings that didn’t exist?
When they returned to the stable, she swung down from Prince William and started unbuckling his saddle.
“Here,” Slade said, nudging her out of the way, “I’ll get that for you.”
Amanda opened her mouth to tell him she’d been handling her own tack since she was nine. Jethro had insisted his daughters be self-sufficient in such things and not be a nuisance to the ranch hands. Instead, she stepped back, giving Slade room to work, and knowing he was simply acting from his code of honor and respect.
“Thank you,” she said, forcing a smile. “It’s good to know chivalry isn’t dead.”
And it was this side of Slade that she’d found so easy to fall in love with.
Slade cut an irritated side glance at her as he pulled the saddle off Prince William. “Chivalry?” He grunted and twisted his mouth in disgust. “It’s called doing my job. Every cowboy knows taking care of his horse is his first priority.”
She sighed. “True, but when you take care of my horse, too, I call it thoughtful and sweet.”
Another withering look. “Whatever.”
He turned his back and draped the saddle over the storage rack, and she recalled his reaction to being called “sweet” last night. Amanda frowned. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” he asked, pulling off the saddle blanket next and folding it in halves.
“Whenever I thank you for doing something nice or being especially tender with Cheyenne, you get all bristly and dismiss it as if I’m imagining things.”
His brow furrowed. “I do not.”
She barked a humorless laugh. “You just did!” Shifting her weight and angling her head, she folded her arms over her chest. “Why does it bother you for me to see your softer side? For me to point out to you that you have a softer side?”
He gave her a hooded look. “I told you before, no real man wants to be called soft.”
“I’m not calling you soft. I said softer side. I’m talking about when you’re considerate or polite to the maids. Or when you do nice things for me without being asked and take it upon yourself to protect me. Or when you look at Cheyenne with that tender look on your face.”
He jerked his head up, his expression dark. “I do what?”
Amanda blinked. What had she said that upset him? “You’re good with Cheyenne. Most men handle babies like they were footballs, but you’re careful with her. Gentle. And, yes, you’re swe—”
“Damn it, Amanda.” He swung the folded blanket onto the shelf harder than he needed, his body tense. “Would you drop it?”
“Why are you mad?” She stared at him, baffled by his attitude. “This is what I’m talking about! If I even hint that you have a good heart under your tough-guy exterior, you go all squirrely and hostile on me. Is this because I cut you off, because I won’t have a sex-for-sex’s-sake fling with you?”
His expression darkened. “Is that really what you think?”
She grunted her frustration. “Then why does it bother you so much that I see good qualities in you?”
He snatched a bridle up from the ground and slung it onto the shelf. His jaw was tight, and a muscle flexed in his cheek.
She crossed the floor to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Slade—”
“Don’t,” he growled, swinging around to face her and aiming a finger at her face. His nostrils flared as he dragged in a ragged breath. “Don’t fall in love with me.”
She gave a startled laugh. “Who said anything about love?”
His eyes widened as if he feared he’d just made a colossal mistake, and he yanked his finger back, balling h
is hand in a fist. “Forget it.”
“I mean, we just decided there was no relationship to pursue, right? That you’ll be leaving when you’re done here.” Amanda stared at his back as he continued to toss tack equipment about with more force than necessary. What had just happened? She hated that the conviviality of the afternoon had disintegrated into this...this whatever it was. Not a fight. She wasn’t mad at him. Disappointed, yes. But she was more puzzled by his unexplained attitude and brusque behavior.
“Slade?”
He faced her with an impatient huff. “Just because I’m nice to your daughter or I help you with your saddle doesn’t mean I’m all hearts and flowers and romance. Okay?”
She raised her palms. “Okaaay. I got that. You don’t love me. Last night was just sex. But why are you so mad?”
Did he think she was angling for a commitment, pushing him for a marriage proposal because they’d slept together once? Did he think she was withholding sex to manipulate him? She’d learned her lesson with Cheyenne’s father about expecting too much and getting her heart broken. She would not make the same mistake with Slade. Somehow she’d rein her heart in and move on.
Amanda set her mouth in a firm line. She was quite content to build her life around raising Cheyenne—alone, thank you—and concentrate on her career.
After another moment of her confused silence and his slamming things around, he heaved a disgruntled sigh and marched back over to her. “Look, last night the sex was good...hell, it was great, all right? And I know I shouldn’t have misled you by staying last night and making love to you.”
“Making love?” She scoffed, her hurt seeping to the surface. “I thought we decided it was just sex.”
He slapped a hand down on her saddle. “Damn it, Amanda, I never said that! It was more than just sex. We both know that, but...”
Her breath stilled. What was he saying?
“I’m just...I’m not looking for anything permanent. I don’t need another wife to—” Again he cut himself off, a stricken expression crossing his face as he clamped his mouth shut and staggered back a step. He bit out a curse and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Then his words permeated her fog of confusion over his drastic reaction. Another wife...
Ice slithered down her spine. A bone-deep cold filled her. “You’re...m-married?”
Not again. Please God, not again. A stabbing ache slashed to her heart, and she admitted that, yeah, maybe she did have feelings for Slade. Otherwise why would the idea of his betrayal hurt so much?
Slade raised his head, his eyes troubled, pained. “Was. I was married.”
The weight in her chest eased a fraction, but before she’d relax completely she had to be certain. “And the divorce is final?”
If possible, the misery in his face deepened. He looked ready to cry, though the rigid set of his jaw and black expression he wore said he’d never yield to the tears. “No divorce,” he rasped. “She died.”
Amanda raised a trembling hand to her mouth, the tears he wouldn’t let himself cry spilling from her eyes. “Oh, Slade, I’m so sor—”
“Save your pity.” He jerked his shoulders back and stormed past her. When he reached the stable door, he paused long enough to add, “If all you want is sex, I’m your man. But I’m not husband material. Spare yourself the trouble of learning that the hard way, and start looking for good qualities in another man.”
* * *
Amanda returned to the house, her chest heavy with grief and confusion. Slade had been married. His wife had died. It explained so much about his dark mood, his resistance to a relationship.
And he’d called what happened between them last night making love. It was more than just sex. We both know that...
Damn it, why had he given her that seed of hope? She’d have been better off believing he didn’t care. She could more easily move on and curb her own feelings if she thought there was no chance for them. But the torture in his eyes just now in the stable said he did care, that he was torn, that he was hurting. And his pain sat heavily in her chest, gnawing at her.
The sound of a car door slamming brought her head up as she approached the house.
“Amanda!” her sister Catherine called, giving a wave and a smile. “Wait until you see what I just bought for the baby’s nursery. They had the cutest accessories at the shop next door to the seamstress in town.”
Amanda’s mood lifted a little, seeing her sister’s broad grin.
“Why were you at the seamstress?”
Catherine laughed. “Gabby is worried my growing belly means my bridesmaid dress won’t fit. She sent me to get alterations.” Cath moved to the trunk of her car, and Amanda bumped her aside when she reached for her packages.
“Nope. I’ll get that. You don’t need to be lifting anything heavy.”
As she lugged the bag out of the car, Amanda flashed back to Slade’s similar gesture with her saddle moments earlier.
Catherine rested a hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “Hey, why the sad face? What’s happened?”
Amanda slammed the trunk lid closed and shook her head. “Long story. If you’re truly interested, I’ll bore you with it later. For now, let’s go see what treasures you found in town.”
“First I want lunch. The baby is demanding food. Now!” Catherine hooked her arm in Amanda’s and walked inside with her. “By the way, was that Slade I saw crossing the yard toward the barn when I first pulled in?”
Amanda flashed an ironic grin. “Yep. He’s the protagonist of the long and tragic tale of my bad mood.”
Cath arched a shapely eyebrow. “Uh-oh.”
“Exactly.”
* * *
Later in the week, after Amanda finished her morning rounds, checking on all the animals she was currently treating for various ailments and feeding the animals in the petting zoo, she headed upstairs and stuck her head into Cheyenne’s nursery. Tom was flipping through a magazine while Cheyenne gummed her killer whale toy in her baby swing. “Tom, are you busy?”
He glanced up and chuckled. “Do I look busy?” He set the magazine aside. “What do you need?”
“Distraction. I’ve been preoccupied with all the horrible things happening on the ranch and my dad’s failing health and...” She heaved a weighty sigh.
“You want to talk?” The older man shifted forward on his seat but looked uneasy about a heart-to-heart.
“No...thanks. I thought the house could use a little Christmas cheer. Would you help me bring the decorations in from the storage building out by the barn?”
“Sure. What do you want to do about princess? I saw Mathilda in the hall earlier.”
Amanda shook her head. She’d grown increasingly worried about having anyone other than Tom babysit Cheyenne. Except Slade. And what did it say about their relationship that he was one of the few people she trusted with her daughter’s life?
An image of Slade, nearly naked and sitting in the steamy bathroom, flickered through her mind’s eye, stirring her pulse, and she quickly pushed the sultry image aside.
“No, we can, um...take her with us.” Amanda retrieved the baby backpack and slipped it on. Tom helped dress Cheyenne warmly in her pink winter snowsuit and load her in the carrier, and they headed out.
Mathilda was vacuuming in the hall as they left, and she cut the machine off as they passed. “Heading out, Miss Amanda? I can have Fiona clean your suite while you’re gone, if you’d like.”
“Oh, not necessary. We’ll only be gone a few minutes. We’re heading down to the storage building to get Christmas decorations.” She flashed a smile as she started down the stairs. “Thanks, anyway.”
Mathilda nodded. “Let me know if you’d like help putting the decorations up.”
Tom followed Amanda out the back door of the ranch house, and they crunch
ed through the thin layer of snow that had fallen that morning. The dusting of white made the trees and outbuildings sparkle in the winter sunlight.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air, so cold it bit her lungs.
Tom smiled as he cast his gaze around. “No prettier place on earth than Wyoming, I say. Lived here my whole life and wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”
When they reached the outlying storage building, Amanda keyed open the lock and flipped on the lights in the cavernous room. “The tree ornaments are up there.” She pointed to a middle shelf. “And the garlands and nativity set are up there.” She aimed her finger to a top shelf.
Tom groaned. “Clearly someone on your staff doesn’t believe in making Christmas easy for the decorator.”
“Fortunately the boxes aren’t heavy.” Amanda retrieved a step ladder and set it up. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “Chickpea, this will be easier without you on my back.”
“Agreed.” Tom helped lift Cheyenne from the pack and spread his coat on the floor.
“Tom, you’ll freeze!”
“It’s only for a few minutes while we climb the ladder, and I won’t have the princess sitting on the cold, dirty floor.” He set Cheyenne in the middle of his coat and handed her the killer whale toy to chew.
Amanda headed up the ladder, chuckling. “You softie.”
“Guilty as charged.” He took the first box from her and set it on the floor, then moved back in place to take the next one from her. “Just don’t let my old police squad hear—”
The storage room door crashed open, and someone in a ski mask darted inside.
A ski mask...Amanda’s blood ran cold.
“No! Tom, get Cheyenne!”
But the bodyguard had already headed toward her daughter. Amanda let the box of decorations crash to the floor. She started down the ladder, desperate to protect Cheyenne. Time seemed to move in slow motion, as the ski-masked figure raised a gun. Fired. The ear-shattering blast echoed through the storage building.
Tom clutched his chest. Staggered...and fell, facedown, mere feet from her daughter.
Colton Christmas Rescue Page 16
