His concern made warmth creep around her heart. Surely he cared, if only a little.
Remembering her plan to teach Jake about love, she knew she couldn’t push him away, even if he was a cowboy. Like he said, he couldn’t be much of one, with Pawnee Investments to run.
Hesitantly she rubbed her hand across the hard muscles of his chest. “It probably would’ve made a difference in the beginning, but now you’re kinda growing on me.”
“I am?”
He sounded so surprised, she pushed up on his chest to meet his worried eyes. “Are you afraid I’m going to leave just because you’re a cowboy?”
He captured her shoulders in a bruising grip. “I won’t let you leaves.”
Claire shifted so she straddled his legs, then she cupped his tight face in her hands. “I’m not going to walk out the door just because you’re a cowboy, Jake. It’ll take a heck of a lot more than that to get rid of me. If I ever do leave, it’ll be because you’ve done something so horrendous that I can’t forgive you. So, treat me like a queen, and we’ll get along fine.”
At first, she thought her attempt at humor failed. His eyes searched hers, probing the depths of her soul. But then with a shaky breath, he ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “Being a cowboy isn’t horrendous?”
She shook her head. “Being a cowboy is in the realm of awful, not horrendous.”
“Why do you hate cowboys so much?”
She dropped her gaze to the strong pulse visible at the base of his throat. “I don’t hate cowboys. I just don’t like them very much. You can blame my brothers, the way they bossed me around all my life. I equated all cowboys with them, which is stupid. All cowboys aren’t alike.”
“You said I’m just like Hank.”
“Well, you are in a lot of ways. But you don’t make me feel like a naive little girl every time I leave the house.”
His lips finally curled into a smile so sexy it took her breath away. He trailed a hand down her neck and over one breast. “One thing I’ll never treat you like is a little girl”
Claire caught her breath at his caress, then caught his hand. “Before you start any of that, I think we need to talk about how little we talk. Alex noticed how much I don’t know about you.”
He nodded. “Hank noticed the same thing.”
“Two people in love would know the big things about each other,” she insisted. “A wife should know whether her husband’s a cowboy or not.”
“You’re right. But during the three weeks we’ve been married, you’ve been too busy to do a helluva lot of talking.”
Claire felt heat creep into her cheeks. “I know I’m partly to blame. But you want to spend all our time together making love. You have to admit we do very little talking.”
Jake sighed. “We need to schedule time every day to spend together, just us. Not in bed. Not at work. Maybe lunch?”
“Lunch sounds good to me.” She ran a finger lightly under the cut across his cheek, then leaned forward to place a gentle kiss above it and below. “But it’s not lunchtime now.”
He went still. “Are you making advances, Mrs. Anderson?”
“I believe in rewarding good behavior.”
His dark brow lifted. “Wait a second. I thought we just determined not telling you I’m a cowboy was bad behavior.”
“I’m not talking about that.” She combed her fingers through the light mat of hair on his chest “I’m talking about you letting me in on the discussion with Hank this afternoon. That’s the best present you’ve given me. Now I want to give you something you’ll enjoy.”
Reaching down, she lifted her nightgown slowly, smiling as he watched her reveal her body inch by agonizing inch, his eyes on fire. When she finally pulled the black lacy hem over her head, she was on her back before she could toss the gown away.
Chapter Nine
Jake woke at five-thirty the next morning feeling as if he could ride Night Wing to the moon. Rising to one elbow, he smoothed a strand of Claire’s hair back from her cheek and placed a gentle kiss on her velvet skin.
“Five more minutes,” she murmured sleepily, then rolled away from him.
He smiled ruefully, then climbed out of bed. After a quick shower, he dressed and made his way downstairs to make coffee. As he descended, he heard music and talking coming from the living room. He found cartoons on the television and an alreadydressed Matt on the floor in front of it.
Jake wasn’t surprised. The boy had collapsed on the sofa half an hour after supper, so exhausted that even his dad taking him up to bed didn’t disturb his shallow breathing.
The boy twisted around when Jake paused in the doorway. “Happy Thanksgiving, Uncle Jake. Wanna watch Bugs Bunny?”
“That’s okay, Matt. I came down to fix breakfast. You want anything?”
Matt reached up to turn off the television. “Yep. I’m starvine.”
Jake frowned as the boy bounded ahead of him into the kitchen. He’d been hoping the boy had already fed himself. Jake didn’t have the faintest idea what to feed a five-year-old
Jake entered to find Matt already seated in a chair at the kitchen table. “What do you like to eat?”
“I don’t care. Anything.”
Jake ran a hand back through his hair as he surveyed the kitchen. “How about eggs?”
“Great. You want I should help?”
“You can fix eggs?”
The boy rolled his eyes with a frown. “Nah. Mom won’t let me cook on the stove yet. But I make toast all the time.”
“Okay, I’ll make the eggs, you make the toast. Deal?”
“Deal!”
The two worked easily for the next few minutes. Jake had already discovered Matt liked to talk, so there were no uncomfortable silences he felt obligated to fill. He’d never been around kids and had worried about dealing with his new niece and nephews, though with so many adults around he didn’t think he’d actually have to. But the Edens hadn’t been there twenty-four hours and already he’d spent time alone with each child.
The kids took it for granted they were loved by the adults around them, that the adults would take care of them and their needs. They included Jake in this assumption, which made bands of heat creep around his heart, made him want to prove them right.
Jake and Matt had just sat down to eat when Claire came through the kitchen door. Dressed in a warm flannel robe, she pushed her hair back from her pale face. “What are you guys doing up so early?”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Aunt Claire. Uncle Jake and me made breakfast. Want some?”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, Matt. But I’ll pass on breakfast for now. Thanks though.”
“You okay?” Jake asked, noticing Claire’s pallor.
She pasted on a smile. “I’m fine. I’ll just get a bit of coffee.”
“You sure?” he pressed.
“Yes. Go on and—”
“What’s that?” Matt sat up suddenly, like a dog hearing a far-off whistle.
They fell silent and heard the sound of a vehicle coming down the road.
“Could it be Travis already?” Claire asked.
They moved together to the front of the house. A blast of cold air hit them as they opened the door to see a shiny, black, extended-cab dually pulling a matching six-horse slant-load trailer down the drive.
Matt shot off the porch before Jake could grab him. “Uncle Travis!”
The rig stopped twenty yards shy of the house, and Matt threw himself up against the cab door. A hand came through the open window to ruffle the boy’s hair, then the door swung open with Matt still attached. A long-legged cowboy slid down, favoring his left knee. He shut the door, then grabbed his nephew off the side of it The giggling boy scrambled up to sit on his wide shoulders, bumping off the black Resistol. Travis caught his hat easily, then, hanging on to his nephew’s boots, walked stiffly to the porch.
Eyes the same color as Claire’s took Jake’s measure as Travis climbed the steps.
“You’re here awf
ul early,” Claire commented.
Travis swung Matt down and folded her into his arms. “I planned to get a bit of shut-eye at Scott Whitfleld’s house, but his wife was so glad to see him I decided to move on along.”
She pulled back and peered up at him, clearly concerned. “How long has it been since you slept?”
“Hell, I don’t know.”
Claire huffed. “You’re not twenty anymore, Travis. Your body can’t take this kind of abuse. When are you going to realize that?”
“Aw now, don’t start until I get a cup of coffee in me.” He ran a finger down her nose. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to this sidewinder you married?”
A broad grin accompanied the insult, but Jake heard the steel beneath as Claire made the introductions, so he was ready when Travis tried an uppercut with his left fist. Jake stepped aside easily as Claire gasped and grabbed her brother’s arm.
“Travis, what are you doing?” she cried.
“Just letting the weasel know where I stand on this rushed wedding.” Travis glared at Jake. “Let go of me so I can finish.”
“No need for that,” Hank’s deep voice said calmly from the screen door.
Travis’s eyes never left Jake’s. “No?”
“Travis Eden, you’re not going to beat up my husband,” Claire stated hotly.
“Give me one good reason.”
“If you kill him, you won’t be going to the National Finals because you’ll be in jail.”
Jake’s eyes slid over to Claire. Was that the only reason she didn’t want him beat up?
“Hell, I’ve made the last eleven,” Travis spat. “They won’t miss me.”
Another swing at Jake missed since his sister still clung to his arm.
“Because I love him, okay?” Claire blurted out.
Jake froze. Everyone faded into the periphery of his vision except his wife, whose color had returned in bright spots along her cheekbones. Was it true this time, or a lie to convince her family? She’d been trying to avoid lying, but might consider this a “have-to” situation.
Her words caught her brother’s attention, too. Travis turned to search his sister’s face. “You do?”
She nodded solemnly.
Travis glanced at his brother. “You have a little chat with our friend here?”
Hank pushed the screen door open. “He’s a top hand, Travis. Come on in, and I’ll tell you about it.”
“I’ve got a couple of horses I need to unload first.” Travis turned to Jake. “You got a couple of empty stalls I can make use of?”
Jake nodded. “There’s a barn around back.”
Travis stared at him for a minute, then extended his hand. “Hell, if Hank says you’re all right, then I reckon I gotta welcome you to the family. No hard feelings, I hope.”
“Nope. You missed.” Jake met the strong grip with crushing force and saw a kernel of respect in the sky-blue eyes. “Come on. I’ll help you unload.”
Claire stepped forward quickly. “I’ll come, too.”
Hank grabbed her arm. “You’re not even dressed. Why don’t you help Alex get breakfast on the table? I’ll go with them.”
“But—”
Hank dropped a kiss on Claire’s head. “Don’t worry. I won’t let them kill each other.”
Jake looked up when Sarah proudly stomped into the living room, violently shook a dainty silver bell and announced, “Mama says come to get it.”
“That’s come and get it, bugface,” Matt corrected in brotherly derision.
The bell tinkled as Sarah placed chubby hands on her hips. “If you wants to get it, you gots to come. But I don’t care if you comes or not, turkey breath.”
“I’ll show you turkey breath.” The boy started for his sister, who ran squealing toward the kitchen.
“Matt.” Hank’s stern voice stopped the boy in his tracks. Jake cleared his throat to keep from smiling at the sheepish look on the boy’s face. He noticed Travis had the same difficulty.
“Did you hear what she called me?” the boy asked.
“Yep, and I heard what you called her,” Hank told him. “You want any turkey or not?”
“Then you will have turkey breath,” J.J. snickered.
“Dad!”
“JJ.” Hank said, warning clear in his voice.
The older boy grinned at his father. “Sorry, Dad. It was too good to pass up.”
Travis laughed out loud and reached down to lift Matt high in the air. “Save room for your mama’s pecan pie. and it’ll wash all that turkey right down here. Then you’ll have nut breath instead.”
Matt giggled as Travis tickled his stomach. With the boy riding his uncle’s shoulders, they made their way toward the smells that had been making their mouths water for the past two hours.
Jake couldn’t remember ever being in a house that smelled so good. When he was a boy, Thanksgiving was just another day of work, with the usual fare of beef and beans. He’d eaten turkey on Thanksgiving as an adult, mostly because it was about the only thing being served in the few restaurants open on the holiday. But those restaurants didn’t smell like this.
He entered the dining room last and stopped in the doorway. The long table set to accommodate all eight of them should’ve bowed under the weight of the bounty. A huge turkey sat at one end, with green beans, corn, sweet potatoes, dressing, gravy, rolls and condiments of all kinds.
When he glanced up, his eyes locked with Claire’s who stood on the opposite side of the table. “You did all this?”
The whole family hooted with laughter, which made Jake frown. His wife quickly came around the table and slipped her hand in his. “I helped, but Alex is the cook around here.”
Jake lowered his lips to hers briefly. “It looks delicious. Thank you.”
“I helped, too,” Sarah insisted from where her father folded the corner of a napkin over her neckline for a bib.
Jake smiled at the little girl. “Thank you, Sarah.”
Claire squeezed his hand. “Alex is the one you need to thank.”
“That’s okay.” Alex walked past with a plate of cornbread. “If your husband wants to think you hung the stars out to shine, I don’t mind. I’ve got my own stargazer right over here.”
Hank grinned. “You got that right. Alex is the best cook in three states.”
“Which three?” JJ. asked mischievously.
Travis ruffled his nephew’s hair. “Any three you name.”
“I do thank you, Alex,” Jake said. “Now, where do you want me to sit?”
Everyone in the room pointed to the place in front of the turkey.
Jake frowned. They expected him to carve the turkey like some Grandpa in a Norman Rockwell painting? He barely knew a leg from a wing.
He turned to Claire and said in a low voice, “I can’t.”
She glanced up at him in surprise. “You can’t what?”
“I can’t carve a damn turkey,” he spat softly. “I’ve never touched one that wasn’t already in pieces. Let Hank do it.”
She ran a comforting hand up his back. “You’re the head of the house. It’s expected.”
“I’ll mutilate the damn thing.”
She grinned at him. “That’s okay. Hank mutilates it, too.”
“He does?”
She nodded. “He hacks away at the poor bird like it’s a fence post that refuses to be dug up. Come on. Nobody cares what the pieces look like. They’ll still taste the same.”
After another quick kiss, Jake released Claire’s hand and took his place. She sat at the other end with Hank, Alex and Sarah on one side of the table and Travis between the two boys on the other. Taking a deep breath, Jake picked up the carving knife and fork.
“Ain’t you gonna say grace?” Matt asked.
“Aren’t you,” his mother corrected automatically.
A hush fell over the table and every eye watched him expectantly. Jake swallowed hard as he replaced the knife and fork. Grace? He hadn’t heard a prayer uttered in
years, much less said one. “Uh...sure. I forgot.”
Another surprise came when everyone at the table joined hands. JJ. grabbed his right hand and Sarah reached for his left. which he obediently gave her. All heads bowed.
Great. What the hell was he supposed to say? He supposed grace on Thanksgiving Day ought to be thankful.
He began a generic prayer he hoped would work for everybody at the table. “Dear God, thank you for the food set before us, and the family gathered to eat it. Amen.”
His eyes rose to lock with Claire’s. She gave him a smile and a small nod of her head.
“Okay, who’s going to start this year?” Hank asked.
Hell, what was this? Another tradition? Couldn’t these people just eat?
“Me! Me!” Sarah cried.
“Okay, Cricket, what are you thankful for?” her father asked.
“For the pony you’re gonna get me for Christmas,” the girl stated happily.
“That’s a little premature, isn’t it, Sarah?” Alex asked.
“You can’t ride on your own until you’re four,” JJ. told her.
“I’m almost four.”
“No, you’re not,” Matt said.
“Sarah can be thankful for anything she wants, whether it’s real or not,” Hank said firmly. “Now who’s next?”
“Let’s go this way,” Alex said, watching Jake as if she recognized the panic in his eyes. “I’m thankful for my family, and for our newest member. Welcome to the family, Jake.”
He met her smile with his own. “Thanks.”
“By the way, you can carve the turkey while we do this,” she said gently.
Grateful for something to do, he lifted the carving knife and set to work, as Hank said, “I’m grateful for my family, too, and for being able to do the work I love.”
Claire was next. “I’m grateful to have a job where I finally use all of my college education, and for my very own husband who gave it to me.”
With one turkey leg halfway sawed off, Jake lifted his eyes to hers. A depth of feeling shone from the blue depths. Was it love? Or was it gratitude? Would he ever be able to tell the difference?
And Cowboy Makes Three (Cowboys To The Rescue 2) Page 14
