Swinging into the saddle, Brianne looked at him before answering, her eyes holding his. He had the uncomfortable feeling she was looking right through him.
And then she shook her head. “Not the way I see it.”
He had no idea what she meant by that, but he figured he was better off not asking. Talking to women only led to trouble.
Just look at the way his men were behaving. A bunch of grown men, performing like trained bears. Damn pitiful, if you asked him.
“C’mon then,” he muttered. “We’re burning daylight.” Kicking his heels against Whiskey’s flanks, he galloped off.
4
When he heard the front door open and then close, Quint looked up from the newspaper he was reading. He’d dropped by his parents’ house, curious to see the woman who, according to Will’s story, had their brother so bent out of joint.
What he saw was one very shapely, slightly dustylooking lady. She had hair the color of corn just kissed by the sun and had to be, despite the fact that she looked exceeding tired, one of the handsomest women he’d ever seen.
He smiled a greeting when their eyes met. “You look like someone rode you hard and put you away wet.”
Brianne didn’t know him, but he looked enough like Kent and Will for her to guess that he had to be yet another brother. His features were a little more chiseled, his hair a little darker blond and longer, but he was a Cutler, through and through, no doubt about it. Instead of an answer, a sigh escaped her dry lips. With a sense of longing, she contemplated the sofa, but knew that if she sat down now, chances were she wouldn’t be able to get up. Not for hours.
By her reckoning, there was only so much energy left in her body and she had to use it wisely. Getting up the stairs to her room was going to be all the challenge she figured she could safely face.
Company or not, she couldn’t stand having her shirt stick to her ribs any longer. She pulled her shirttails out from the waistband of her equally sweaty jeans, then held the shirt away from her. Anything to feel a little air.
Only then could she muster a smile. Rode hard and put away wet, huh? That about fit the bill. “I think they did.”
Rising, he crossed to her. He was immediately taken by her eyes. Quint had always believed you could tell a lot about a person by their eyes. Hers were bright and lively. And beautiful. That matched what Will had told him.
“Hi, I’m Quint.”
“The second oldest,” she remembered, shaking the hand he extended to her. “I figure you already know I’m Brianne Gainsborough.” News traveled fast in small towns and even faster between family members. Unless, of course, one of those members was Kent. She got the impression that if it were up to Kent, she’d remain a secret no one knew about.
“Yeah.” Quint let his gaze slide over her appreciatively. Nice packaging, he mused. There, too, he agreed with Will. He had no idea what was wrong with their younger brother. “Kent giving you a rough time?”
She tried to rotate her shoulders and felt a twinge of pain starting between her shoulder blades. Every place on her body either ached, or was beginning to. And it would be worse tomorrow. She wasn’t looking forward to morning. “He probably doesn’t think so.”
Quint knew how pigheaded Kent could be. His brother had mostly steered clear of all females, save their mother and Morgan, ever since Rosemary Taylor had done her number on his heart. Knowing Kent, he probably lumped Brianne in with the likes of the Taylor woman.
“I’ll talk to him,” he promised.
“No.” Brianne realized she’d shouted the protest, but the last thing she wanted was for Kent’s big brother to lecture him on her behalf. She didn’t need anyone interceding for her. This was something she’d handle on her own.
She flashed an apologetic smile and shaved some of the agitation from her voice. “It’s all right. I don’t want special treatment. I told Kent that I just want to be invisible.”
Now that was downright impossible. A rumble of a laugh dismissed the very notion. “From where I’m standing, the only way that’s going to happen is if you leave or turn into one of the head of cattle.”
Her appreciation was in her eyes. “Thanks, I needed that.”
With a gait that she knew was less than graceful, she made her way toward the winding staircase.
He noticed that she was limping. Kent probably kept her in the saddle for most of the day. “Anything I can do for you?”
Brianne couldn’t summon the energy to look over her shoulder at him. Besides, she was afraid that if she did she would fall over. “Short of carrying me up the stairs, you can tell me where the liniment is.”
With a feeling of triumph, she put her hand out to capture the banister. Almost there.
Quint laughed. “I can do both.” The next moment, he very carefully, very gently swept her up in his arms.
Surprised, Brianne tried to protest, but her heart really wasn’t in it. “Wait, I didn’t mean—”
He ignored her feeble protest. “In case no one’s told you, I’m the sheriff. It’s my job to make sure that the people in and around Serendipity stay safe.” He saw her brows draw together in confusion. “If I let you go up those stairs in your condition, I’d be guilty of negligence. You might fall and break that pretty neck of yours. Now, we just can’t have that happening.” He winked at her. “Not even to a photojournalist.”
It felt like heaven, being off her feet, but she didn’t feel right about letting him carry her up the stairs like this.
“But—”
He wasn’t about to let her try to talk him out of it. He’d managed heavier loads than her just helping out on the ranch.
Slowly, careful not to jostle her, Quint began to make his way up the stairs. Since according to what Will had told him she was a reasonable sort, he pretended to appeal to her common sense.
“Think of it as a favor to me. I’d be stuck filling out all those reports.” In a slow drawl, he enumerated the complications. “Then your father would want to know what happened and the paper would send in reporters.” He shook his head. “Too much of a hassle.” He drew her a tad closer, savoring the feel of the lady. “Carrying you up the stairs is a hell of a lot easier.”
She knew when to give up. Especially when surrendering felt so good. “If you say so.”
Quint took his time. The stairs were wide and the load a pleasant one. “I surely do say so.”
Brianne slipped one arm around his neck. Now why couldn’t Kent be like this? “I guess you’re the one who got the manners.”
A hint of the fierce family loyalty that existed in all of them surfaced. “We’ve all got manners, Brianne.” Still, loyalty or not, he knew Kent’s shortcomings. “Some of us just don’t want to show them, that’s all.” He shrugged. “Afraid of using them up, I guess.”
No danger of that in Kent’s case, Brianne thought. “Is Kent always so hard on women, or am I special?”
“He is, and you’re special.” Quint grinned, looking down at her. “Kent’s a good guy, but he doesn’t venture out of his shell much. The one time I know of that he did, he got his heart stomped on. Messed up his people skills something awful.”
“My people skills are just fine and what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Turning slightly, Quint looked down. Kent was at the bottom of the stairs, glaring up at him. “Taking what’s left of this fine young woman and bringing her up to her room.” Quint gave his brother a reproving look. “You ought to be ashamed, Kent.”
Against his better judgment, Kent had turned his horse around after he’d left Brianne and ridden back to the house. He thought to perhaps mumble half an apology—not that she had one coming, but he had to admit she’d tried really hard to keep up. He figured effort deserved some sort of recognition.
But any notions of an apology had evaporated in the heat that overtook him when he saw her in his older brother’s arms.
First his father, then the hands, now Quint What was it with this woman? Did she get
some sort of perverse pleasure out of seeing how many men she could wrap around her finger?
Kent blew out a breath as he took the stairs two at a time until he stood one step shy of the one they were on. Ignoring Brianne, he looked at Quint. “What I ought to be is having my head examined for letting everyone talk me into this.”
Quint snorted. “Now that’s a crock and you know it. Nobody’s ever been able to talk you into anything you didn’t want to do since you were old enough to talk. Everybody knows you’ve got a head like a rock.”
This sounded like the makings of an argument and Brianne didn’t relish literally hanging between them at a time like that. She tapped Quint on his shoulder because he seemed to have forgotten that he was still holding her.
“Excuse me, but maybe you’d better put me down before you drop me.”
This time, there was a trace of wickedness in the grin Quint aimed her way. “Not likely.”
Kent scowled. He’d heard just about enough. “Give her here, she’s my responsibility.”
Nice to see him coming around, Quint thought. He had a good feeling about these two. Brianne, with her outgoing way, was just what his brooding brother needed in his life. “Whatever you say.” He began to hand Brianne over to his brother.
What was she, a package of ground beef? Brianne braced her hand against Kent’s chest before he had a chance to take her from Quint.
“Now hold it, I am no one’s responsibility but my own.” It was as if she hadn’t said a word. Quint completed the transfer. Brianne could feel her temper threatening to flare as Kent took her. “And I am not a ‘thing’ to be passed back and forth,” she added, struggling not to sound as annoyed as she was.
“Not a thing, more like a hot potato,” Kent told her matter-of-factly. She weighed less than a guilty conscience, he noted. “Now stop wiggling, or we’ll both fall down the stairs.”
If he used that half of a brain he had, Brianne thought, he would have realized that she wasn’t wiggling. Any motion he felt was just the aftermath of her being passed into his arms. But there was no reasoning with him. Resigning herself, Brianne laced her arms around his neck. This way, if he “accidentally” dropped her, she’d take him with her.
She studied the dark look on his face. “Well, it’s a cinch you’re not about to win the Mr. Congeniality award any time soon.”
Kent kept his mind on the stairs and not on the woman pressed up against him. It was a whole lot simpler that way. He wasn’t much good at complications when it came to women. He was still trying to figure out why he’d grabbed her from Quint like that. It wasn’t like him. That, too, had to be her fault.
“Not after any award,” he muttered, not even sure what it was she was babbling about.
“Good, then you won’t be disappointed.”
He stopped. The look he leveled at her had silenced a man twice her size, but he had a feeling it would have no effect on her. Woman probably didn’t have the sense she was born with. “Whether or not I’m disappointed about anything is no concern of yours.”
Ouch. He’d certainly put her in her place. Not that Brianne had expected to mean anything to him, but being told as much had a certain sting to it she didn’t care for. She was accustomed to people liking her, not going after her scalp.
“Well, that was refreshingly honest.” There was no reason for him to be this nasty to her. She hadn’t done anything to him. On the contrary, she’d gone out of her way to be pleasant when he was downright surly. “Tell me, just what put the bur under your saddle, Kent?”
He answered before he could think better of it “You, for one.” With his elbow, he eased open the door that was standing ajar. Shifting her slightly, he walked into her room.
“Why? I didn’t get in the way today. I even helped,” Brianne reminded him.
She’d herded cattle, helped cut the calves out and then gone on to help work on the length of fence that needed mending. She was bowlegged, dirty, tired and had scratches along her left arm where the barbed wire had gone through her jacket. Just what did she have to do to win this man over?
He was talking too much and he knew it, but Kent couldn’t seem to stop. “The only way you could have helped today was to get a bag and put yourself in it. You were a distraction, lady. To everyone.”
To everyone. That had to include him. It hadn’t been his intention to make the rebuke sound like a compliment, but she took it that way. Surprise widened her eyes as she looked at him.
“Everyone?”
“Yeah, everyone.” Reaching her bed, Kent dropped her on top of the comforter, as if to punish her for what he was thinking right now. For what he wanted to do right now.
Brianne tried very hard not to wince as she felt her body jar. “I distracted you,” she said very slowly, digesting the meaning behind his words, unintentional or not.
He knew he should be going, but somehow, he couldn’t get his feet to work. They remained there, in front of her bed, immobilized by some unknown force. The leash on his temper was shortening.
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
Brianne rose to her knees on the edge of the bed, her aches and pains forgotten, at least for the moment “Why?”
Why. The woman wanted to know why. Next, she’d be asking for a pound of his flesh. “Because you kept talking and snapping that camera of yours.” But that wasn’t the main reason and he had a feeling that she knew it. “And because you kept smelling of honeysuckle.”
All the fight had gone out of her, to be replaced by a warm smile. “Oh?”
“And you kept doing that.” He jerked his head at her. At her expression. “You kept smirking.”
He was floundering and he knew it, Brianne thought. “That’s not a smirk, that’s a smile,” she contradicted softly.
“Same thing,” he bit off. Damn it, why wasn’t he leaving? Why was he standing here, looking at her as if he was some feebleminded lapdog, longing for a very particular lap? Maybe his sister Morgan was right after all. Maybe he needed a night on the town just to get rid of this strange, charged energy that was battering him. He needed a woman, any woman.
Any woman but her.
There hadn’t been any energy battering at him until Brianne had showed up, he reminded himself. Kent chalked up another strike against her.
“No, it’s not.” She drew closer. Too close for Kent’s comfort.
“With a smirk, one side of your mouth goes up. With a smile, you use both lips and they curve on both ends.” He could feel her breath along his face as she spoke. Kent began to feel itchy. Itchy in a way he knew he couldn’t scratch.
“Like this.” Brianne smiled up at him. “See?”
He saw. He saw all right. He saw that he had one hell of a major problem on his hands. A problem he damn well could do without.
A problem that was going to be his, nonetheless. Swearing, Kent was barely aware of what he did next, only what followed after that. Vaguely, he recalled taking her by the shoulders and pulling her toward him instead of away. The desperate thought burrowed its way into his brain that since he couldn’t get her to back off by working her hard, maybe he could do it by scaring her.
She sure as hell was scaring him.
His mouth came down on hers, quickly, urgently, like an eagle swooping down on its prey before it got away. Taking what he’d been thinking about ever since she’d kissed him yesterday.
Even after a day in the saddle, she still tasted like sugar-dusted strawberries.
And he still had a craving for sugar-dusted strawberries. Worse than ever.
The air had whooshed out of Brianne the instant he’d pulled her to him. Now she felt as if she had leaped into the center of a roaring fire, barefoot up to her neck. She was consumed by it. By him.
Heat wrapped itself around her as tightly as a tourniquet. She anchored herself to the overwhelming sensation he created within her by lacing her arms along his neck.
A muffled moan escaped as she struggled to hold her own in this.
Struggled not to be swept away and burnt to a cinder.
If Kent meant to frighten her away, he succeeded only in frightening himself. Frightening himself because of the intensity that she somehow managed to drag out of him. Frightening himself because of the degree of passion she seemed to have unearthed. Passion he hadn’t even realized existed.
Very slowly, he drew her arms away from his neck and moved back on shaky legs. What was it that she did to him? It almost didn’t feel real. “Maybe you’d better stop smiling for a while.”
Right now, Brianne wasn’t sure if she had sufficient lip power to manage a smile, even a weak one. She sank down on the bed, completely boneless.
He berated her, made her jump through hoops and then kissed her until she felt raw inside. Brianne shook her head. “You are one hard man to figure out.”
Finally beginning to recover, Kent started edging out of the room. “Then don’t try.”
“But it’s my job,” Brianne protested. And now, maybe her calling, she added silently, because she wanted to know more things about Kent Cutler than what went into a lengthy article with glossy pages.
“Get a new one,” Kent shot back. Turning, he walked straight into his brother, who was in the doorway. How long had he been there? From the grin on his face, Kent guessed too long.
Kent scowled at him. Why hadn’t Quint left yet? What was he doing here, anyway? “Don’t you have a town to protect, or a Wanted poster to hang up?”
Quint held up the bottle of liniment he’d gone to fetch. It tickled him to see the way his brother was behaving. If he didn’t miss his guess, Brianne Gainsborough had it all over that annoying Taylor girl who had set his brother mooning and brooding.
“Just bringing the lady what she requested.” Quint elbowed past his younger brother.
Annoyed, Kent snatched the bottle from Quint’s hand. The words on the label registered. He raised a brow as he turned around to look at Brianne. “So you’re sore.”
He said it as if he’d won some kind of silent bet. She felt herself bristling. “God would be sore after a day like today.”
Cowboys Are For Loving Page 5
