by Jillian Hart
He desired her, and it wasn’t because he was lonely.
When she smiled, he lost his heart.
Gage halted his team outside the boarding house, windows gleaming with lamplight. “Here we are.”
“Home.” The word had never sounded so good. “You didn’t need to drive me into town.”
“I wanted to.” He didn’t touch her, but his words were intimate, emotion clear in his voice.
The closeness of the evening lingered between them, unspoken but felt.
“We might have to do that again.” Gage climbed down. “I make a mean pan of chicken and dumplings.”
“Ah, but are they better than mine?” Sarah slid her palm over his and let him help her down. Not because she needed help, but because she wanted his touch.
“I’ll have you know I never back down from a challenge.” His words tingled against the back of her neck as he held her for a moment longer than necessary, one hand at her waist, the other on her elbow. “Duel or cooking contest, I’m man enough to win.”
“Just because you’re a legendary lawman doesn’t mean you can’t be defeated. I may be the woman who beats you.”
“Just don’t hurt me.” He winked.
“What am I going to do with you? No, don’t say it. If you bring up whipping one more time—” She had to adore a man who made her laugh, even if it was with puns.
“I’ll behave,” he promised with a saucy grin. He rescued her empty basket from the floorboard. “I know you work tonight. If you need someone to keep an eye on Ella, she could bunk with Lucy.”
“Really?” Lucy squealed from the back seat of the buggy. “Can she, Pa? Please? Please?”
He rolled his eyes. “I made the mistake of saying that louder than I meant to.”
Sarah took one look at Ella and wished she could say yes. “Maybe another time. I have everything arranged with Mrs. Flannery. She’s going to keep watch on Ella while I’m at the hotel.”
“Just let me know if you need help. I’ll ride to the rescue. It can’t be easy juggling two jobs.”
“It’s an improvement, believe me.” The air was starting to turn chilly, and Sarah pulled Ella into her skirts. “We best get you inside, sweetie.”
The girls said goodbye, as Sarah tugged Ella toward the front door. Although Gage said nothing as he leaned against the side of his buggy, she wanted to believe it was longing she felt in his silence.
Later, as she scrubbed down the hotel kitchen, she couldn’t help going over the evening’s events in her mind. Treasuring each memory. Of his kiss. His embrace. The hard feel of him—of all of him—when he held her tight.
“My, aren’t you in a chipper mood tonight.” Ms. McCullough bustled in with her slate. “I wager it has something to do with that wonderful Mr. Gatlin driving you to the boarding house this evening. After dark.”
“Lucy had Ella over to play.”
“Hmm. That’s awfully cozy.” Mrs. McCullough opened the pantry closet. “Guess what I heard is true, after all.”
“I’m afraid to ask.” Sarah wrung soapy water from her cloth. “When are the rumors about Gage and me going to stop? Surely there’s someone more exciting to talk about?”
“Who could be more exciting than Mr. Gatlin?”
Remembering the blazing heat of his kiss, Sarah could not argue with that. She’d never experienced anything so amazing.
“We need more brown sugar. Better write that down.” The stylus scratched on the slate. “And flour, too, and how was supper?”
“Gage is a great cook.” Sarah stopped scrubbing. She looked up in shock at the woman grinning ear to ear on the other side of the kitchen. “You tricked that out of me.”
“Years of experience, missy.” Mrs. McCullough looked proud of her accomplishments. “Did I hear you right? He cooked for you?”
“Oh, no.” Sarah went back to washing the counters. “I’m not giving you any new gossip.”
“He cooked for you? Honey, let me give you a good piece of advice. You listen up and stop scouring that counter for a minute.” Mrs. McCullough took a deep breath, setting down her slate so she could gesture with both hands. “In the thirty-five years I was married, not once did my Herbert cook for me. Not so much as boiled water for a cup of tea or a poached egg. In thirty-five years.”
Sarah exchanged her cloth for a brush and dunked it into the wash water. “Gage is a widower. He had to learn so he could feed his daughter.”
“He didn’t have to feed you.” Mrs. McCullough placed both hands to her throat. “He cooks. Why, that man would be a blessing to any woman smart enough to marry him. You’d best snatch him up right now, before word of this gets ’round town. Women will be falling at his feet.”
“I’ll take your advice under consideration.”
“See that you do.” She closed the pantry doors, rescued her slate and tapped across the floor to the swinging doors. “A man like that comes around once in a lifetime.”
That may well be true. Sarah tightened her grip on the brush and scrubbed hard enough to bring up the grease stains around the stove.
Gage was a once-in-a-lifetime man. Handsome, wealthy and kind. A retired lawman and still a hero. A wonderful father and a gifted horseman.
Trouble was, he wasn’t her once-in-a-lifetime.
The house felt lonesome after midnight, the silence so loud he couldn’t clear the nightmares from his head. He rolled out of bed, pulled on his denims and padded into the hallway.
Starlight glowed silver beneath Lucy’s door. He eased it open to get a look at her. She was sprawled out, the blankets to her chin, still and peaceful, her dark hair tangled across the pillow. Tenderness washed through him, love for his little girl.
She’d talked nonstop during the return trip from town until he’d tucked her in and kissed her tonight. She’d worn herself out, she’d been so happy.
“Know what, Pa?” He could still hear her, clear as a bell in his memory. “Sarah had a rope swing when she was little, too. Know what, Pa?” Sarah this and Sarah that, her eyes glittering with dreams. “Know what, Pa? One day, if you do get a hankering to get married, it would be like today, when Sarah came.”
Ah, hell. The truth hit him like a falling brick and he sat in the middle of the staircase before his knees gave out.
Marriage was nothing like what had gone on tonight. Marriage was serious business. It was responsibility and meeting expectations and making sure everyone had what they needed.
His chest knotted up, remembering how hard it had been. How hard he’d tried. How often he’d failed.
After all this time he could still see the anger on May’s face. Feel her disappointment in him… He cut off his thoughts.
He could put a bullet through a target at any distance, as long as he was in range. He could track the most clever criminals who’d ever passed through Montana Territory and find them.
He’d survived twisters and blizzards and flash floods when he wore a badge. He’d done all that, but he hadn’t been able to fix the wound in his marriage.
He’d always figured he was the problem.
It wasn’t fair to Lucy to be saddled with a father like that. He couldn’t blame her for wanting a mother. Most men with children remarried, after all.
He couldn’t do it, not even for Lucy.
He made his way through the house. The emptiness echoed around him in the dining room without a table and the parlor without a sofa.
He’d only meant to be practical with more work than he could do alone. Men to hire and train. Fences to mend, animals to gentle. The new bunkhouse to shingle and side.
Hell, there was always some excuse. He figured he must like things this way, never permanent, so nothing would look or feel like home. As a Rider, he’d spent his life on the road. As a wrangler, he’d moved from ranch to ranch, wintering over in whatever town they ended up in, always moving on when the Chinook blew.
That didn’t matter so much when Lucy was smaller. Now she was a schoolgirl, wanti
ng what other little girls had. A comfortable home, stability, friends…permanence.
You can do this, Gatlin. He dragged in a deep breath, letting the night air fill him up.
He wasn’t a kid anymore, a little boy terrified of his stepfather, afraid for his beaten mother. Wishing he was big enough to take his mother away. To take care of her and his baby brother so no one would hit them again.
He’d spent the next eight years of his life trapped, his stepfather’s cruelty wearing him down.
When he couldn’t take it anymore he’d pulled on his patched boots and walked away. Never looked back.
But those years were still affecting him. His failed marriage only taught him what he’d already known. He was better off not needing anyone.
Except Lucy. She needed him. She needed him to fill this parlor with permanence—sofas and chairs, pillows and cushions and those doodads females liked.
She needed a home, so when she grew up she’d know how to be happy. How to stay. How to love the family she would have one day.
He could do this. He had to. She was the one person he never intended to fail.
That meant he had to be careful. Gage splayed his palm across the counter where he’d trapped Sarah and kissed her hard and long.
Right here they’d laughed together and she’d scolded him and she’d filled his arms as if she belonged there. Fitting beneath his chin, against his chest, as if she were made for him. The heat of her breasts, the curve of her hip against his hardness.
He wanted her. Wanted to know the heat of her thighs. Needed to hear the sigh she would make when he entered her in one slow thrust…
Gage yanked open the door and let the cool wind breeze over him. It didn’t help. He was still hard. Still wanted her.
After rummaging through the pantry, he found the whiskey bottle. Tossed back a few shots, let the liquor burn like fire in his guts. Made his way in the dark to his empty bed and stretched out on the wide mattress.
Hours passed without sleep because he wanted her.
That bad, and that much.
Gage squinted through the glare of the dining room front window in the boarding house where Sarah worked. Oh, hell. Just his luck the place was as packed as cattle in a stampede.
Maybe he ought to wait. Finish his errands and head back to the ranch. Make sure the hands were moving the breeding mares to the right pasture. Check on the new fences being built.
Anything would be easier than facing Sarah. Could he pretend that he didn’t desire her?
Buck up, Gatlin. Just do it. He’d done harder things in his life.
But it didn’t seem that way as he shouldered into the boarding house dining room.
Mrs. Flannery gave him a wide smile and the best table, tucked in the corner by the window, where he didn’t feel so walled-in. Thinking too hard about his feelings could do that to a man.
He ordered, then asked Mary about Sarah.
“Just finishing up her shift.” Mary appeared so pleased he’d asked. “Should I send her out?”
“Please.”
He took a sip of lemonade to calm his nerves. He’d no sooner set down the glass than she appeared through the swinging doors. Golden hair twisted into a knot on top of her head, accentuating the delicate cut of her high cheekbones and the curve of her chin.
He’d kissed that chin. Found himself wanting to kiss her there again…and anywhere else she would let him.
She carried two plates and set one on the table in front of him. “Mary said you wanted to sample my chicken and dumplings.”
Vaguely he remembered their teasing remarks from the other night, but he was too busy watching her mouth move to remember what had been said.
Stop thinking about kissing her. He gathered his stray thoughts while he stood and pulled out the chair for her.
“You’re a gentleman when you want to be.” She tossed a shy smile at him.
Damn, she was remembering, too. How on earth was he going to get this done?
She settled into the chair with a rustle of petticoats, and he nudged the chair forward until she was comfortable. Breathing in the intoxicating rose scent that clung to her hair made him weak.
You can do this. He took his seat across from her and grabbed his fork. “Guess this is the moment of truth.”
She watched expectantly as he took his first bite. The creamy gravy and fluffy dumpling melted on his tongue. A grin tugged at the corners of her generous mouth, reminding him of her kisses, passionate and tempting and better than anything he’d ever tasted in his life.
“You like it.”
“Damn good.” He wasn’t sure if he was talking about the food or her. It didn’t matter. “You win hands down.”
“That was too easy. We’ll have to set up an unbiased judge. Maybe Lucy. I’ll save some for her and Ella for an after-school snack.”
“That’s right. She’s spending the afternoon here.” He hadn’t forgotten. He just couldn’t seem to concentrate and be in Sarah’s presence at the same time.
“What are you doing in town?” She spread her napkin across her lap. “You seem to have enough to do on your land.”
“I’m meeting the afternoon stage. I hired a man and his son. Used to work with him on one of the horse farms I was at last summer. Good workers, and they were willing to come here for a job.”
“Sounds like you’ll have that bunkhouse filled up before you know it.” Sarah’s slender fingers curled around the fork’s steel handle.
Such pretty hands, he couldn’t think. Couldn’t hear what she was saying. He remembered how it felt when she clutched his shirt in her fists, then ran her hands over his shoulders when he was kissing her.
What would her touch feel like on his bare skin?
Oh, hell. Wasn’t he going to try to behave himself? He grabbed his glass, the ice jangling in protest, and downed a long swallow of cold liquid.
“Are you all right? Is there something you’re not telling me about the food? Let me guess. You actually hate my chicken and dumplings and don’t want to hurt my feelings.”
“That’s not it. I just—” What was he going to say? The truth? He fumbled a little, then remembered why he’d come in the first place. “I know you’ve got that interview tomorrow. Didn’t know how you were going to get there.”
“I plan to rent a horse and buggy from the livery.” Sarah seemed unconcerned as she cut a bite of chicken with the edge of her fork.
Unconcerned? “That just doesn’t make good sense.”
“What?”
“It’s nonsense to pay when I have a perfectly good buggy I’m not using.”
“I see.” Her mouth thinned into a straight line. “I thought we had an agreement. You were going to stop treating me like a poor widow in need of charity. Remember?”
What in blazes did that have to do with her job interview? Gage shook his head. “I was only saying I’d feel better if you took a rig of mine. If you’re going to go, that is. Jerry over at the livery doesn’t maintain his vehicles like I do, and you might have a breakdown, is all.”
Poor widow? Did she have any notion that when he looked at her he saw an attractive woman that made him rock-hard?
The little gray buttons on the front of her bodice strained over her extremely fine-looking bosom as she inhaled deeply, eyeing him like a U.S. Marshal ready to make an arrest.
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t drive one of Jerry’s rigs farther than across town. You’re headed into the next county.”
“I hadn’t considered that.”
“Tell you what. Maybe you ought to look closer to home.”
“I am looking. I’m not finding anything. That’s the problem.”
“Maybe you just haven’t looked hard enough. You’ve got a nice room, and you’re working for room and board. Maybe you ought to stay here, instead of uprooting your daughter and moving to another county.”
“I haven’t been hired yet.” She gave him a
scolding look. “Not that it’s any of your concern.”
“You’ve be surprised how nosy I can be. What you need is a job around here that pays well.”
“While you’re dreaming, why don’t you add in a new horse for Ella, and a husband for me, oh, and a thousand dollars in shiny gold coins. I could really use that.”
She stole his water glass, which he hadn’t touched, and took a sip. “Enough about me. These men you’re meeting at the stage. They’ll be your first live-on hired hands.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Does that mean your new bunkhouse is finished?”
“Yep.” A plan was forming in his head, and she kept trying to divert him. “Tell me about this job over in Price. What would you be doing?”
“Cooking for two dozen cowboys.” She shrugged. “The pay is good and we would get our own cabin. I’ll know if it’s something I would like when I get there tomorrow.”
“Cooking for cowboys, huh?” You could do that for me. He bit his tongue to trap the words. Sarah work for him? What was he thinking?
He was losing his mind, that’s what. Gone plumb loco. Remember how it had been in the kitchen? He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. His iron will melted like soft butter when he was near her.
He wanted more than kisses. He wasn’t going to lie about that.
So what was he really wanting? He stirred the green beans on his plate as he tried to figure out what to say.
“Don’t like beans?” she asked. “I’m not surprised. I think men have an aversion to green vegetables. I sprinkled a little bacon crumbs over them, to give them more flavor.”
“Do you know what I’m thinking?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Maybe you ought to work for me instead.”
“You?” She shook her head. “Oh, no. I…” She opened her mouth, stopped, then shook her head. “I don’t think that would work. Besides, you’ll only have two hired men. That’s not enough to need a full-time cook.”
“There’s the house.” Now where had that come from? He hadn’t even been thinking about that, had he? And yet it felt right to keep Sarah here. It would be better for the girls. Better for Sarah.
