by Nika Rhone
“It’s okay. You didn’t realize we shared a bathroom.”
“No, not for that. Well, yes, for that, too, but I meant, for not immediately turning around and leaving the instant I realized you were…”
“Naked?”
“And for being so rude as to stare at you like you were a…a…”
“Naked man?”
“Would you please stop saying that?” Her face was no longer red but full-out crimson. Daryl bet he could fry an egg on it.
“Sorry.”
The look she gave him said she doubted the sincerity of that apology.
Smart girl.
“Anyway, I have no excuse for my reprehensible manners, and you have both my most sincere apologies and my promise that it will never happen again.”
He could have been a gentleman and accepted her apology. But the very pretty words scratched at his temper for some reason. “I might think you meant all that, Princess, if you didn’t sound exactly like one of your daddy’s press releases.” The sharp breath she sucked in meant he’d hit his mark.
“Okay, fine, if you want little, tiny words you can understand then here it is. I’m sorry I walked in on you. I’m sorry I ogled you like you were a Playgirl centerfold. And I’m sorry you’re just so damned good-looking that my tongue gets tied in knots every time I try to talk to you when your shirt is off.” She stabbed a finger into his chest. “And don’t call me Princess!” She spun on her heels and started walking toward her bedroom.
“Hey.”
She whirled back to face him, her expression belligerent. “What?”
“Just for the record, I looked, too.” Rounded eyes and pink-lipped mouth hanging open were the last thing he saw when he shut the door.
He would have laughed if he wasn’t worried she might hear and think he was laughing at her, when in fact the joke was on him. She got tongue-tied because he was too good-looking? What the hell was he supposed to do with that? She was still his job, his responsibility. Nothing had changed.
And yet it seemed everything had.
Groaning into his hands, he sank onto the edge of the bed. It looked like that lightning had come down and struck him, after all. All that remained to be seen was if it was going to singe him, or kill him dead.
****
I looked too.
Lying in bed, Amelia kept turning the words over and over, trying to figure them out. Did he mean them as a way to assuage her guilt by making them even? Or did he mean he’d looked, really looked, the way she had? Her stomach clenched and her heart raced at the possibility.
She didn’t have the kind of body that men found arousing. In fact, she was very decidedly unsexy. The best she’d ever achieved was sophisticated. But the way Daryl said those words. I looked too. They held an undertone, almost a promise that had her believing that in spite of what the mirror told her, Daryl liked what he saw.
Even if it had been showcased in the no-frills panties and bra from Walmart.
She regretted the practical little voice in her head that had made her put the pretty blue and black satin underwear set back on the rack. Which was stupid, of course. She wasn’t interested in being sexy for Daryl, or for any other man right now. She’d just gotten rid of the one she had. Why would she want another?
Maybe because the one and only other time a man had seen her stripped down to her underwear, he’d left her aching and unfulfilled on the bed while he went to take a phone call. Something like that left a definite crack in a person’s self-esteem. Added to all of the other cracks that had been inflicted over the past twenty-three years, and it was a wonder she hadn’t shattered into a million pieces by now.
I looked too.
Why had he said that? What did it mean? He could have been a little clearer, darn him. At least when she’d said—
Amelia dragged the pillow over her face to muffle her mortified groan. Had she really compared him to a centerfold model? And told him that the sight of his bare chest made her too stupid to speak? She groaned again. That was why she’d rehearsed that very pretty apology for almost half an hour before finally getting up the nerve to go knock on his door. So she wouldn’t trip over her own tongue.
Which she’d done anyway.
She wanted to be angry that he compared her apology to one of her father’s press releases, but really, he was right. She’d been so embarrassed earlier she hadn’t been able to look at him all through dinner. The only way she was able to face him to apologize was to put on her game face and treat the situation like any other social blunder.
Only…the game face hadn’t quite fit anymore, and there was no way to pretend that seeing a naked man was the same as spilling one’s tea. Especially that naked man. This time when she groaned, it was for an entirely different reason. Oh, Lordy, that man! She’d never seen so much male perfection. Lillian had always drooled over Daryl’s broad shoulders and long, powerful legs, and that had been with his clothes on. She had no idea what she was missing. If she ever got a look at him in all his glory…
A surprising burst of jealousy burned through her at the mere thought of her gorgeous, confident, vivacious friend getting near Daryl’s naked anything. She had to laugh at herself. How ridiculous! Lillian had admired him through an artist’s eye, nothing more. And even if there had been more, there was nothing for Amelia to be jealous over because Daryl wasn’t hers to be jealous about.
But that didn’t make any difference to the tiny bud of possessiveness that took hold inside of her. Or to the curiosity about the scars she’d noticed marking his body in several places. Remnants of his rodeo days? She’d love to ask, but doing so would mean admitting, once again, she’d seen him naked, and Amelia wasn’t about to open up that line of conversation again. Ever.
No, as far as she was concerned, tomorrow would be a day like any other. A fresh start, where they could both pretend the shower incident had never happened. If only she could believe that Daryl would cooperate with that plan. Somehow, from his parting words, she had a feeling the fallout from her ignorance of shared bathrooms was far from over.
And she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a tiny part of her that was looking forward to it.
Chapter Sixteen
Eggs were a lot harder to make than pancakes.
Luckily, when cooking for a group as large as the one seated at the Circle R’s kitchen table, scrambled was the style of choice. Unluckily, Amelia couldn’t seem to get the hang of keeping them from getting overdone, which made them about as appetizing to eat as warm rubber. But that didn’t keep the men from shoveling them down as though it was the last meal they’d ever get. Amelia wanted to apologize, but if they were willing to leave the matter alone, she’d go along with their generous silence. Dinner, she vowed, would be perfect.
It wasn’t even close.
Late in the afternoon, the owner of the temperamental black stallion paid an unscheduled visit to “just look in” on the progress Hank was making with him. From the tight-lipped expression on Kimama’s usually placid face, it wasn’t the first time.
By the time the men finished putting the stallion through his paces for his overeager owner, answered all of his questions about why he wasn’t further along in his training, and finally got him on his way, there were still other horses to see to and the regular chores to be caught up on before everyone straggled into the house and settled around the table to eat. What had once been a very choice rump roast had been kept warm in the oven for so long it was little better than the rubbery eggs Amelia had cooked that morning.
“Why doesn’t Hank tell him he needs to make an appointment if he wants to come and see about his horse?” Amelia asked Kim as they stacked the dishwasher.
“Men like that don’t take very well to being told what to do by someone they’re paying to work for them,” Kim replied.
Women either. Her mother had just “dropped in” on her hairdresser or the exclusive by-appointment-only boutiques where she shopped all the time. Any hint she might
be inconveniencing them was met with a reply of, “If they don’t want my business, I can most certainly take it elsewhere.”
“It was still rude,” Amelia muttered, rattling a pan a little harder than necessary to make it fit in the rack.
“Yes, but the horse world is a small one.” Kim shrugged. “We have a good reputation within it, but it wouldn’t take much more than a few bad comments from men like him to change that. So, we put up with the rudeness and keep reminding ourselves that while we only have to deal with them for a few hours, they have to live with themselves forever.”
Amelia laughed at Kim’s wry tone. The people her mother trod over in her expensive Manolo Blahniks probably shared the same sentiment.
“I guess since Hank was a Marine, he’s used to dealing with people he can’t tell to their face they’re being idiots.” Thea had told her Doyle found himself calling on his military training more than once since starting up his security business. Not for the actual security part. For the dealing with ridiculous expectations from customers part.
Closing the dishwasher, Kim turned and looked at her with surprise. “Daryl talked to you about his father?”
“He mentioned a bit.”
“Did he, now?”
Amelia didn’t like the keen interest in Kim’s stare, hazel eyes narrowed over a slightly long nose that gave her the appearance of an all-knowing owl. She looked around the kitchen, desperate for something, anything, to do, but everything had been wiped, stacked, or put away.
“Come, let’s have some coffee and talk.” It was phrased as an offer, but Kim was already pulling two fresh mugs down from the cabinet.
Torn, Amelia waffled for a moment before admitting she wanted to stay. She and Kim had spent a lot of time together in the last two days, but aside from cooking instructions, they hadn’t done much actual talking. And still it was the most human contact she’d had in the past month.
Amelia brought the sugar and creamer back to the table. “You wouldn’t happen to have any decaf, would you?”
“Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“I think maybe I just haven’t adjusted to ranch time, yet.” Amelia wasn’t about to admit the real reason she spent the better part of the night tossing and turning. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Daryl in all his naked glory. It was like the image had been branded onto her eyelids.
Of course, once she finally had fallen asleep, there had been dreams she couldn’t remember once she woke, but given the achy, unfulfilled state of her body, it wasn’t hard to guess what they’d been about. Or, rather, who they’d been about.
It was disconcerting. She’d never had those kinds of dreams about anyone else before, including Charles. And now she was dreaming inappropriate things about a man she had no business dreaming about at all, naked or otherwise.
“Hmm.” Kim reached for the kettle on the stove. “Perhaps tea instead.”
“That would be lovely.” Come to think of it, she hadn’t needed one of Kim’s special teas to soothe her stomach since that first time. It was a small victory, perhaps, but it was still a victory.
“My son doesn’t often speak of himself to people, and especially not about his younger years.”
Interesting that Kim claimed Daryl as her son, whereas he made it very clear that she was his stepmother. It said a lot about their relationship. Which meant Amelia really wasn’t comfortable talking about anything else he’d shared with her the previous day.
“Daryl strikes me as a very private man,” she replied with care.
“He’s very much like his father in that regard.”
Amelia smiled. There were many similarities between father and son. Reticence was only one of them. “Did Hank ride in the rodeo when he was younger, as well?”
Kim nodded, answering the call of the boiling kettle. “It’s where he learned his skill with horses. He was a champion roper before he left to join the Marines at seventeen. The youngest to ever win the title at the time,” she said with pride.
“Then that’s another thing they have in common.” Amelia tried to picture a young Hank Raintree riding in a ring roping calves and came up with an image of Daryl instead. “It’s obvious that neither one of them likes to brag about themselves.”
“Unlike our Chaska, who doesn’t know how to do anything but,” Kim said with a small laugh as she brought two steaming mugs to the table, making the observation affectionate rather than judgmental. She went to the cupboard for a plate and filled it with gingersnaps from the ceramic cookie jar painted like a rooster, putting it on the table between them before sitting.
“Yes, Chaz is very much the opposite of Daryl in that regard.” But there was a reason behind Chaz’s braggart ways that had little to do with true arrogance. He might laugh, and joke, and chat her up like a big-time rodeo flirt, but there was a hint of something in the man’s eyes while he did that struck her as almost sad.
They sipped their tea in silence for a few minutes. There were so many questions Amelia wanted to ask. But she didn’t have the right to pry, so she stayed silent, nibbling on a cookie as she enjoyed the comfortable sense of peace that always settled over her when she was with Kimama.
“Would you like to attempt ham and eggs for breakfast tomorrow?”
Amelia bit into her cookie to hide a grimace. “I’m not so sure the men would appreciate me messing up their eggs a second day in a row.”
“They ate them, didn’t they?”
“That doesn’t mean they enjoyed them.”
“They appreciate a good effort. You’ll do fine.”
Amelia wasn’t nearly as confident as Kim. “Sometimes good efforts fall short. Maybe you should just do the eggs and save everyone another round of indigestion.”
Kim gave her a look laced with disappointment. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.”
“I’m not!” The accusation stung. “I just don’t want other people to suffer for my ineptness.” But were her reasons really about the men’s stomachs, or her own embarrassment about not being able to do something as simple as cook breakfast? God, when had she become such a coward?
Oh, right, when her mother made it a mortal sin for her to show herself as being anything less than perfect.
“Okay, if you’re sure, then yes, I’d like to give it another try.” Amelia was tired of living the pale, gilded cage of a life her parents had constructed. No, that wasn’t entirely fair. They might have made the cage, but she was complicit in her own imprisonment. Not once had she fought for what she’d wanted, what she’d needed to make her happy. She’d been too busy spending all her time making everyone else happy instead.
Well, no more. Learning how to cook fluffy eggs wasn’t exactly a lofty goal, but she had to start someplace.
Kim smiled. “You’ll do just fine.”
Amelia wasn’t a hundred percent certain she was talking about breakfast.
Eager to get off the subject of herself, Amelia asked, “I enjoyed riding around some of the ranch yesterday. It was so beautiful I almost didn’t want to come back.”
“I felt the same way the first time I saw it.” Kim’s smile turned wistful. “After growing up dirt poor, this looked like heaven to me.”
Amelia grew up filthy rich, and she felt the same way.
“Of course, when Buck brought me here, it was called Oak Ridge Ranch, and it wasn’t quite as large as it is now. Buck was my first husband,” she said in response to Amelia’s look of confusion. “He was a good man, my Buck, but not such a good businessman. The place was in pretty bad shape when Hank Raintree showed up, looking for work. Buck was gone about a year by then, and I was having a tough time keeping the ranch afloat, seeing as how I knew even less about the business than Buck had.” She shook her head, her expression one of fond indulgence. It was obvious she cared for her first husband despite his flaws.
“If Hank is even half as brilliant with the horses as Daryl was yesterday with that crazy stallion, then I doubt he had any trouble
turning things around for you.”
“He’s amazing with them. Not quite in his son’s league, but I’ve yet to meet anyone who is. Daryl has a gift.” She looked like she was going to say more on the subject, but took another sip of tea and continued her story instead. “As for turning the place around, well, truth is I almost didn’t give him the chance. I didn’t think I should hire someone who was already tied down to other responsibilities.”
“As a single parent, you mean?”
Kim nodded. “I was sympathetic, of course. The boy had just lost his mother, and his relatives over at Pine Ridge…well, in any case, I felt badly, but I didn’t have time to worry about a child being underfoot. I assumed either Hank’s work or his parenting would suffer for having to divide his attention, and I told him so when I politely declined his inquiry for work. Hank being Hank, he refused to take no for an answer and convinced me to give him two weeks to show he could do the job without either part of his life suffering for it.”
Amelia almost asked what happened with Daryl’s relatives, but bit back her question at the last second. It wasn’t her business.
But oh, how she wanted to know more.
“After the two weeks were up, I was ready to beg him to stay on as foreman if I had to. He might not have known much about running a ranch at the start, but he knew horses and he knew how to be in charge and get things done. The rest he figured out as he went.” Kim shook her head with a smile. “He wasn’t about to admit there was anything he couldn’t do if he worked hard enough at it, so he didn’t.” The smile faded. “He was still grieving his wife then, and the hard work gave him something else to focus on, I guess the same way my trying to keep the ranch running kept me going after Buck passed on.”
And perhaps the two of them had helped each other in their grieving process in other ways, as well. Not that it would have been wrong. But maybe that was where some of Daryl’s reserve toward Kim stemmed from.
“It took almost a year of hard work, but we finally managed to turn things around. I couldn’t have done it without my Hanska. He wasn’t always the easiest man to understand, or even get along with sometimes, but at the heart of him, he was everything I ever wanted or needed to be my other half. Although it did take me almost that whole year to convince the hardheaded man of that and agree to marry me,” she added with a self-satisfied look.
