Red-Hot Ranchman

by Victoria Pade

  “I’m sorry Robbie dragged you out here,” she said in greeting. “He ran away without giving me the chance to tell him not to bother you.”

  “It’s no bother.” John hunkered down next to her, smoothed the animal’s side as he muttered soothing words to her and took a close look at her mouth. “Let’s see if we can get her to take some water,” he suggested.

  Robbie ran for the trough, picked up a nearby bucket, filled it and hurried back to hand it to John as if it were a pail full of gold he was honored to offer him.

  But when John took the bucket he frowned, held it to his nose and sniffed. “This water’s bad. There’s lye in it.”

  “Lye? How could lye have gotten into it?” Paige said, taking a whiff herself, only to pull back in distaste when he proved right.

  “I’d say what you have here is a poisoning.”

  “I’d better call the vet,” Paige said, too dumbstruck by the news to ask any more questions.

  She ran for the house and once inside dialed the vet’s number. But she learned from his wife that he was out on another emergency and wouldn’t be available for some time. All she could do was go back out to the field and hope Robbie was right and that John would know how to help Frieda.

  Apparently, her hope and her son’s faith in their neighbor weren’t ill-founded because the sight that greeted her when she returned was of Frieda standing again, no longer bleeding, chewing the grass John was feeding her.

  “What happened?”

  “John fixed ‘er like he fixed Pete,” Robbie said proudly.

  John chuckled slightly at that and shook his head as if he wasn’t too sure what the little boy was talking about. “I didn’t do anything really. I think Frieda must have barely tasted the water, just enough to make a lesion open up in her mouth without doing any real harm. We used some water out of the barn and got her to drink that. It cleared away the blood so we could see that things weren’t as bad as they seemed.”

  “Wouldn’t the lye have burned her insides, too?” Paige asked.

  “Cows have tough stomachs. I don’t think but a smidgen of the lye got that far and it looks like what little might have didn’t do much but make her feel puny—that’s probably why she lay down. I’d call the vet back and tell him not to come out if I were you.”

  “He wasn’t available anyway,” Paige muttered, studying the animal for signs of more ill effects. But she couldn’t find any.

  “Why don’t you get Frieda into the barn for the night,” John suggested then. “Robbie and I’ll check out the other troughs, make sure they aren’t fouled, too.”

  “Thanks,” Paige said, his offer making her realize that not only might there be lye in more places, but also that the water must have been poisoned deliberately.

  But why? And by whom?

  Then the worst thought of all struck—Robbie had been playing back there this afternoon when whoever had done it might have been lurking around or watching for an opportunity. A shiver of fear ran through her.

  Paige made quick work of putting Frieda in the barn and then went out the great door to find her son and reassure herself he was all right even though she knew the need was irrational at that point.

  John and Robbie met her as she stepped out into the lamplight of the yard and she clasped her son’s shoulders in both hands. “Did you see anyone out in that field today when you were playing back there? Did anybody bother you?” she asked, hearing the edge to her voice that revealed just how unnerved she was.

  “Nope. Was jus’ me an’ Frieda. An’ my space guy! I fergot ‘im again.” Robbie made a move to go get the toy but Paige kept a firm grip on him.

  “I don’t want you playing there anymore without me. Do you understand? We’ll get your spaceman tomorrow. In the daylight.”

  “But I know right where he is. I can jus’—”

  “Your mom said tomorrow, Robbie,” John interrupted. “It’s best you wait till then.” Paige glanced up at him and found him watching her. His expression seemed to say he knew what she was thinking and agreed with her inclination to be cautious. But all he said was “We didn’t find any of the other troughs fouled. Looks like whoever did it must have come up to the back from those woods beyond the field. Probably didn’t venture anywhere that wasn’t hidden by the barn.”

  “That makes sense,” she said, hating how jittery her voice sounded. It wasn’t the act of poisoning the water trough that most upset her by then; it was the knowledge that Robbie could have been anywhere near whoever would do such a thing.

  John gave her a calming smile from beneath his bushy, rakish mustache. “It was probably just a prank. A lousy one, but the person wasn’t too brave. Or too serious. If he was, he would have done more damage.”

  That made sense and helped some.

  Then he raised his perfectly shaped nose into the air in the direction of the house and not only changed the subject but said in a lighter vein, “What’s that I smell? Somethin’ good.”

  “Brownies!” Robbie answered.

  “Oh, I forgot all about them!” But remembering them now gave her an excuse to keep the big, muscular cowboy around a little longer—only because she was on edge, and because until she could calm herself down again it would be nice to have a man nearby. No other reason.

  Or so she told herself.

  “Will you stay and share them with us? It’s not much payment for a house call—the vet would have charged me a lot more—but they’re homemade and come with a big glass of cold milk.”

  He seemed to hesitate, and for a moment Paige thought she might have gone too far with the invitation, though she didn’t know why that should be so.

  Then John smiled his one-sided smile and said, “I haven’t had homemade brownies right out of the oven in longer than I can recall. I think I’d enjoy it.”

  With that, Paige led the way inside, and for the next hour she, Robbie and John sat around the kitchen table, eating brownies, drinking milk, laughing and letting Robbie lead the conversation.

  It was strange how easily John fitted in. He sat there with the ankle of one long leg propped on the opposite knee, a muscular arm laid casually on the oak tabletop as if he’d been doing it forever.

  Paige began to understand why her son was so taken with him. He paid rapt attention to whatever was being said with the kind of interest that tuned out everything else. He was patient even with the rambling stories Robbie told, asking questions that prolonged them, laughing in all the right places the way he might if a valued adult friend were doing the telling.

  And oh, what a laugh it was! Deep, resonant, it filled the small space with a masculine warmth that seemed to seep into the pores of Paige’s skin.

  There was something special about having a man in her kitchen, she began to think. It had been so long… And she was enjoying herself more than she knew she should. So much so that she dragged her feet about sending Robbie to bed because she was afraid it might put an end to the evening.

  But the later it got, the more slaphappy her son was becoming and finally she had to insist the little boy go upstairs. Not that Robbie gave in without complaint or argument, but again John reinforced her edict and off Robbie went. “He’s a good boy,” John said, watching him go.

  “I think so.”

  “He seems to have some bigger-than-life idea about me, though,” he added with that one-sided smile lifting an end of his mustache.

  “Serious hero worship,” Paige confirmed.

  “It’s nice, but I worry that I might disappoint him somewhere down the road. I’m not too good at leaping tall buildings with a single bound the way he thinks I should be.”

  “You’re not? Robbie will never believe it,” she joked.

  “He’s pretty fond of his momma, too, in case you were wonderin’.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “He’s concerned about you, though. Seems he’s afraid of what’s going to happen to you when he’s grown-up and gets a car and goes off to be with his
friends at night.”

  Paige laughed. “He’s told me that one, too. Very seriously. What will I do with myself when he’s not here to keep me company.”

  “He has a solution.”

  “What?”

  “A man in your life.”

  “Don’t tell me—he’s been matchmaking again.”

  “Again?”

  “There was a substitute teacher a few months ago that he thought might be suitor material. And he keeps his eyes and ears open everywhere he goes, looking for other possibilities.” So of course John came into focus, Paige thought, trying not to feel too excited herself at the idea. “He hasn’t been bugging you about it, has he?” she asked, slightly embarrassed at the thought of what her son might have said.

  “He’s been pointin’ out your attributes.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  John’s grin stayed in place, as did his eyes, watching her intently, all of his interest focused solely on her now in the same way he’d listened to Robbie earlier. Only there seemed to be a somewhat different quality to that grin, even to the interest, and certainly to the way he looked at her. Something that wrapped around her and pulled her in, made her less aware of everything but him—and her own womanhood. Again.

  “Let’s see now,” he said as if he was trying to recall the things Robbie had told him. “You’re clean.”

  Paige laughed. “That’s an attribute?”

  “Well, not really to Robbie, it isn’t, no. He says you’re always fussin’ at him about soap and water, and washing parts he doesn’t think get dirty. But for a grown-up, he figures that’s a plus. And something we have in common, which he thinks is a good thing even if he can’t quite appreciate it.”

  “Terrific.”

  “According to Robbie, you also have nice ears.”

  “Nice ears? My son is singing my praises and the best he can come up with is that I’m clean and I have nice ears?”

  John tipped his head to the side to take a look for himself. “Don’t sell that short. You do have nice ears.”

  The better to hear that mellow baritone voice.

  “No cavities,” John went on. “That was another asset. And eyes that see right without glasses.”

  Right enough to see even the smallest details about the man sitting so close in front of her. Details like the faint shadow of a beard that would no doubt be heavy if he let it grow in along with his mustache. Like the fact that he had eyelashes too long and thick not to make any woman jealous. Like tendons that were barely visible beneath the skin of his powerful-looking neck. Like the smattering of hair that ran from forearms as thick as her calves down wrists that were broad and flat and sexier than any Paige had ever noticed, to the backs of those big, big hands…

  Her mind was wandering into dangerous territory and Paige pulled it into check just as John said, “And you’re a good cooker—Robbie’s phrase, not mine. But he was right. Those were the finest brownies I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting.”

  “Well, I’m glad of that anyway,” she answered with a laugh to keep them in the realm of joking where this conversation had begun and to hide the fact that somehow along the way she’d slipped into a more sensual mode in her mind. “But I’m sorry if he’s pestering you with all this,” she added.

  “Pestering me? He’s a long way from pestering me. It brightens my day when I see that boy comin’. And as for his talkin’ about you…Well, I have to tell you, there wasn’t a time he lost my interest through any of it. It’s been like gettin’ to know a little about the neighbor I only got to see from across the way.”

  “You’re welcome to come over any time, you know,” she said in a voice that came out softer, huskier than she’d meant for it to. But then, what did he expect when he was leaning over just enough to close some of the distance between them, when he was holding her with those sea-foam eyes as surely as he could hold her with his arms, and making her feel like they were the only two people in the universe?

  “I’m afraid I haven’t been too neighborly, have I?” he asked, his own voice quiet and intimate.

  “You’ve been doing pretty well this week.”

  “Have I now?” he countered, that single side of his mustache lifting again.

  “And you could do even more—if you’d like—by coming with Robbie and me to a birthday party my best friend is giving for the sheriff on Wednesday night,” she heard herself say without actually knowing she was going to say it.

  But as with the earlier brownies invitation, she thought she might have gone too far when John drew back in his chair in response.

  “That was silly,” she said in a hurry. “Don’t feel that you have to accept or anything.”

  He chuckled. “What was silly about askin’ me to a friend’s party?”

  “Maybe it wasn’t silly, exactly. I just meant that it didn’t really have anything to do with what we were talking about.” Now she was babbling and making things worse. Why was it that this man could make her act like this? A few minutes of being looked at by a pair of unusual eyes and some male attention, and she was reduced to behaving like a teenage girl with a crush on an upperclassman.

  “Are you just extendin’ a general invitation to a neighbor because everybody around these parts is invited or would I be there with you?”

  “With me. And Robbie,” she added quickly. “But folks are curious about you, so you’d have to expect some interest from the other guests.” Though she doubted the whole town put together could be as curious or as interested as she was in this man. He had enough charisma to disarm her and leave her flustered as well as cause her to do things she not only hadn’t planned, but that she’d steadfastly planned not to do.

  “I might be able to weather a little curiosity.”

  To be with you.

  He didn’t say that, but the message seemed to be there in his tone, his eyes, by the fact that he leaned forward again.

  Or maybe her imagination was just running away with her, she thought as it occurred to her that he hadn’t actually accepted the invitation.

  Just then from upstairs, Robbie called down, “Okay, I got on my pajamas an’ I brushed my teeth an’ I’m ready to get tucked in.”

  John threw a glance over his shoulder and down the hall that led to the stairs. Then he said, “I’d best let you get that boy to sleep.”

  He stood, and for a moment Paige was staring at the zipper to his jeans instead of his handsome face. When she realized what she was doing, she stood, as well, a bit too fast and feeling slightly flushed.

  “You ought to report that lye poisoning to the sheriff,” he suggested as he headed for the door.

  She’d been so absorbed in John’s company that she’d completely forgotten about it. “I will.”

  “But I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Probably only a mean prank. A one-shot deal.”

  She nodded, hoping he was right. “Thanks for coming over to help out.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  He’d done a lot just by filling the past hour with laughter and good conversation. But there didn’t seem to be a way of saying that without sounding foolish.

  He pushed open the screen with one of those big hands splayed against it, but he just held it there, pausing to look down at her again. “I enjoyed the brownies. And the company.”

  Me, too. Mostly the company was the thought that flashed through her mind in response. But she didn’t say that, either.

  “And that party is Wednesday night?” he asked.

  “Right.”

  “I think I’d like to go.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Great.”

  He didn’t say anything else for a long moment. He only stood there studying her, his eyes delving into hers. And for the second night in a row, thoughts of his kissing her were at the forefront of her mind. Only tonight she had the strongest sense that he was preoccupied by the same kinds of thoughts, too.

  He suddenly reached out his free hand to lightly finger a stran
d of her hair and said in a softer voice than she’d ever heard him use, “Robbie also pointed out that you have nice hair. Shiny. Thick…And the boy was right. But then that part I already knew from seein’ you across the yards.”

  She’d have thanked him for the compliment but she couldn’t get the words out of a mouth that wanted only to know the feel of his supple lips, of that bushy mustache.

  And in that instant, she thought he really was going to kiss her.

  Until he let go of her hair and took a step back.

  “Robbie’s waitin’ for you,” he said instead, adding a firm good-night.

  “Night,” Paige barely managed to whisper in response, wondering as she watched him go if she’d been too obvious, if he’d known how much she’d wanted that kiss, how much she wanted to kick herself for feeling that way.

  “Mo-om, I’m ready now.” Robbie’s singsong voice came impatiently from upstairs.

  Paige cleared her throat because otherwise she couldn’t speak. “I’m coming,” she called, albeit weakly.

  But clearing her mind of thoughts of John Jarvis—and worse yet, her feelings of desire for him—wasn’t as easy.

  Those she carried with her long after she’d tucked Robbie in, long after she’d gotten into her own bed, long after she’d turned out the light.

  And for a second night, she felt disappointed. She told herself over and over again she had no business feeling that way.

  But it didn’t change the fact that she was falling for her mysterious neighbor.

  Chapter Four

  “Wow! Did you see how fast that car was goin’ again?” Robbie exclaimed in awe early the next afternoon as he helped Paige paint the front porch railing.

  Paige had seen it all right. The black Trans Am with the gold eagle on the hood. The same car Burt had changed a flat tire for out on the back road the night she and Robbie had come home from Topeka. The same black Trans Am that had sped down the road that ran in front of their house an hour earlier, going in the direction of Pine Ridge then, instead of away from town, now.

  That previous trip was part of the reason Paige was keeping Robbie nearby today—to make sure he didn’t get in the Trans Am’s way. The other part was the discovery of the lye-poisoned water the night before.