by Donna Alward
At Clay’s surprised expression Meg felt heat rush down her body. Of course. The Inn was quiet, but it was also the most intimate of all the locations in town with lots of private corners and alcoves. Meg hurried to explain. “There’s not an abundance of options,” she remarked. “It’s quieter there and I want to get your opinion about a few things.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I thought the deal was that I was strictly hands-off. No butting my nose in.”
“It’s not butting your nose in if I ask for your input,” she replied loftily. “Of course if you’d rather not…”
“I didn’t say that.” He shifted his weight on to one hip. “I just want to clarify things before I go breaking any of your rules.”
Rules. He was standing there in black cotton pants and a light blue shirt that showed off a tan he’d already started building from working outside. She could think of a few rules she wouldn’t mind him breaking. Not a good idea, she reminded herself. She would be completely over her head. But it didn’t take away the fact that the breaking of them would be very, very fun.
“The rules are safe for today.” Meg straightened her shoulders. “So are we on?”
“The Inn it is,” Clay agreed, holding out a hand to let her go first. Meg held on to the banister going down the stairs. She was still feeling a bit woozy but lifted her head, determined Clay not see anything amiss. She’d just signed the papers, the last thing she needed was him clucking around like some mother hen. She was hungry, that was all.
They walked the block and a half to the Inn and found themselves the sole occupants of the dining room as the lunch rush—such as it could be called in Larch Valley—hadn’t yet begun. They were seated in a back corner, more private than Meg was comfortable with, but she straightened her shoulders. She could do this. She’d put aside her feelings for Clay for a long time and they’d remained friends. It didn’t have to be different now. She valued his opinion, and now that things were settled she was anxious to move forward. She just needed to keep things businesslike.
She grabbed her bag and reached for her folder of plans when Clay’s hand stopped her. “Take a few minutes to celebrate,” he said softly. “Don’t you want to look at your menu?”
“I don’t need to,” she answered with a tight smile. “The cream of vegetable soup is fantastic.”
She put the folder on the table. “I wanted you to see the plans and tell me what you think.”
“Plans?” He wrinkled his brow. “You have plans drawn up? Already?”
“Of course.”
Clay’s brow puckered. “How long have you had them?”
“I had them drawn up last fall.” Meg held out the papers. She’d convinced Dawson to hook her up with a builder, and she knew he’d thought she’d forget any schemes once she was well again. He’d been wrong.
“But you were still in Calgary.”
“I was doing chemo, Clay. I’d lost my hair and spent a lot of the time with my head in the toilet. I needed something to look forward to. A reason to keep going. I think the family thought I’d let it go once I was well. But the more time passed, the more I was certain.” Today Meg was feeling like life was finally spread out in front of her and that it just might be okay to open up a little about what her treatment had been like. “I’ve been feeling so much better lately, and my last checkup was perfect. Now I already have a head start.”
He held out his hand for the plans just as the waitress came to take their order. After she was gone, Clay moved a seat over and spread them out on the tabletop.
Meg looked at the drawings sideways and felt excitement and nerves fizz through her veins. In addition to their current stable, an extension was planned to the east side to accommodate another ten stalls. The current corral was shifted to a more central position, with access to it from both the stable and through a sliding door along the new indoor ring. To the west side of the ring was a planned outdoor ring and across the extended driveway was a garden, complete with a large perennial bed and X’s he saw were meant to be picnic tables.
“You’re sure ten stalls is enough?”
“We’ve got ten already, and we’re only using four. The plan is to purchase a half dozen good horses to use for general lessons or trail rides and leave the last ten for boarders.”
“You really have thought it through.”
“I had a lot of time to think. But you’re surprised.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I wouldn’t have loaned you the money if I didn’t think you had your i’s dotted and your t’s crossed.”
“When did you start having so much faith in me?” she asked, watching him fold up the papers. It was a charged question but one she really wanted the answer to.
“I always have,” he replied, handing the sheets back to her. For a second they each held a corner until he let go. “Maybe that’s why it bothered me so much when you went away for treatment. I had never seen you run from anything. I’d never seen you turn your back on…people you cared about. But I don’t think I understood how scared you were.”
Their food came and Meg watched as Clay dipped a sweet potato fry in aioli sauce and bit into it, then licked the remnants from his lip. She swallowed. Felt a familiar tingling of awareness on one side of her body. Clay turned her on. There was no two ways around it. And no way around the fact that she was still too afraid to act on it, especially since he made it clear that the night in her foyer had been a one-time occurrence. She wasn’t into playing games or sending mixed signals, so she grabbed her spoon and dipped into the fragrant soup.
“Meg?”
“Hmm?”
He wiped his hands on a napkin. “Will you let me help? Not because I’m protecting an investment. But because I want to? I think you’re going to do something special and exciting and I’d like to be involved.”
“You mean I’d get to be your boss?”
A grin flirted with his cheek. “You’re in command.”
Meg didn’t know what to say. She put down her spoon and drew in a breath. Being in command of Clay Gregory was heady business. Certainly throngs of women would love to hear those words from his lips and she wasn’t immune, either. But he didn’t mean it that way and she knew it. And she didn’t want his interference. Being near him was becoming more difficult with every passing day.
“I look at the plans and I look at you and it clicks, Meg.” He pushed his case. “I can see it in my head.”
She could, too. She wished she and Clay weren’t on the same wavelength quite so often. It made keeping him at arm’s length very difficult.
She had to keep things strictly business. “I was thinking of the Lund Brothers for construction, what do you think?”
“They’d do a good job for you. Good honest work and they won’t spend a dime they don’t have to. Plus they have good subcontractors.”
Meg pushed her empty bowl away. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”
She knew she hadn’t answered his question. She hoped he’d forget about it and not push the matter. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. It would be sweet torture having him around all the time.
But it wouldn’t be all the time, she reasoned as she stood and reached for her wallet. Clay had a ranch to run. He’d made the offer but she doubted he’d have the time to truly make good on it. Maybe his intentions were good, but how much would he really be around?
“I’ve got this.” He put his hand over hers. Her fingers clutched the wallet, half in and half out of her bag. He was standing beside her, too close, the remnants of his sandwich left on his plate. His fingers tightened around her wrist and Meg’s heart kicked into overdrive. If she stood up all the way she’d nearly be pressed into his body. But she couldn’t stay stooped over forever.
He gave a tug on her wrist and she stood. The corner concealed them from the smattering of diners who had wandered in over the last few minutes and the air caught in her lungs, making her breaths painfully short.
His gaze plumbed he
rs for several seconds and she couldn’t make herself pull away.
He was waiting. Encouraging, certainly, and not backing off. But he was also leaving the choice in her hands. She leaned forward the tiniest bit. His lips were right there, full, luscious, waiting to be kissed. His body grazed hers, making the cashmere of her sweater slide across her skin. Oh, heavens…
Meg leaned forward another half inch, and Clay’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips.
She dropped her wallet.
It hit on the edge of the table on the way down, upending a bundle of cutlery and sending it clattering to the floor. Meg stumbled a step backward as the half dozen people in the dining room raised their heads at the sound.
She couldn’t look at him. Instead she knelt to the floor to pick up the flatware, cheeks blazing.
“Oh, miss, don’t worry about it.” The waitress hurried over and reassured her with a smile. “I’ve got this.”
Meg’s only option was to stand up and face Clay. Face them all. She rose slowly, picking up her wallet and tucking it into her purse. Finally, torturously, she met Clay’s gaze. He’d taken out his wallet and placed enough cash on the table to cover their bill and a sizable tip.
The waitress left them alone and Meg searched for something to say.
“Not quite as over as we thought, then,” Clay murmured, his deep voice riding over her already raw nerve endings.
“Clay…” Her body shivered at the implication. It had to be over. They couldn’t keep going on this way.
“You’re in charge,” he reminded her, but she no longer knew if he meant about them or about the ranch or if there was really any difference. And she didn’t want to be in charge of their relationship. It was different than the black and white of business. Being in charge meant being responsible for screwing up. It was easier blaming someone else.
“I’m in charge,” she echoed quietly.
He smiled then, his whole face lighting up while his eyes seemed to tempt and tease. “Come on, Squirt. I’ll walk you to your car.”
It should have bothered her. She should say something. But instead all she felt was a warmth spreading through her at the affection she heard in the nickname.
She shouldn’t get used to relying on Clay. But as they left the Inn and he walked her back to her car, she knew it was too late. She relied on him for so many things she needed, and she couldn’t help feeling like at some point it was all going to end in a huge thud.
Meg slid the drill back into her tool belt and straightened, stretching out her back. Lord, but she was tired today. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She’d slept like the dead last night; there was no reason for her to be dragging her butt around today. She coughed and rolled her shoulders.
While the Lund Brothers took a coffee break, she finished screwing one of the two-by-fours to a fence post in the new outdoor ring. Once the fence was done, she’d set to work building the picnic tables for the garden area. The supplies waited in a neat pile under a tarp. As Clay’s truck turned up the driveway in a cloud of dust, Meg reached for another board, measured, measured again to be sure, and went to the sawhorse. The circular saw trimmed the end off in no time and by the time he was hopping out of the cab she had the board carefully lined up and had put in the first long screw. She pressed her hand to her forehead. The headache from this morning wasn’t going away. But there was work to be done, and no headache or sexy rancher was going to keep her from getting it completed.
“It’s really coming along.” Clay’s voice sounded behind her and she felt the rush of heat that always followed when he spoke in that warm, approving tone.
“Now that the framing is done, things will start moving fairly quickly,” Meg replied, sinking the last screw in the board and turning. She spun rather too quickly and it felt like the earth shifted beneath her feet for just a moment. It righted again soon after and she forced a smile.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied quickly. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m on my way into town, and wanted to know if you needed anything. And to see how things are progressing.” He smiled at her. “But it looks like you have everything under control.”
Meg went to the box containing the screws and refilled her pouch. “The fence design was a good idea. I like it a lot.”
“If you wait until after supper, I can help you. The days are longer and we’ll have the light.”
The idea of working side by side with Clay was tempting, but that was the problem. He was far too tempting and she could still hear his husky voice in the restaurant saying they were not as over as they’d thought. No matter how she turned it over in her head the facts spoke for themselves. She always came up against the same thing. She couldn’t ever imagine revealing herself—all of herself—to Clay. And Clay wasn’t the committing kind, especially not with her. To her recollection she’d never seen him date a girl longer than a month at the outside. It would be too great a chance, playing the odds.
“That’s okay,” she answered, taking a moment to lean against the sawhorse and catch her breath. “I’ll have this section done tonight and that only leaves one more. I’ll be able to start on the tables after that.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. You must have stuff to do.”
He looked down at her waist and let his gaze do a slow travel up her body, raising her temperature a few notches. When it settled on her face his lips held a sexy, teasing twist and his eyes glittered at her. “Nothing that looks as good as you in that tool belt.”
“Clay.” She had to stop that sort of talk right now. Not because it was inappropriate but because it gave her ideas.
“I’m just teasing,” he replied, but he hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Sorta. I admire a capable woman who knows her way around power tools.”
“What I’m doing is sending you on your way,” she countered. She put her hand on her face. Goodness, was that heat from her blush in her cheeks? The May morning wasn’t quite that hot. She gave a shiver. Actually it wasn’t very hot at all.
“Meg, are you all right?”
“Of course, why shouldn’t I be?”
“You looked funny again.”
Meg picked up a one-by-six and pulled out her measuring tape. She wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, but she was just tired. Since breaking ground she’d been pulling a lot of late nights. “Buzz off, Clay,” she said lightly. “Just what a girl wants to hear. That she looks funny.”
She measured and marked the board and took it to the sawhorse. Laid it across and reached for the circular saw. But then, very carefully, she put the saw down. Something wasn’t right. And using a power saw was probably not a good choice at this moment.
“I nearly forgot, I told Mom I’d send her with an errand list before she went to work.” She threw the words out quickly to cover her pause and straightened.
Clay looked into Meg’s face. She was not all right, no matter what she said. Her eyes were glassy and her face was as white as a sheet.
“Megan.”
She began to weave and Clay felt his heart drop to his toes. She stared at him blindly. “Megan,” he insisted, stepping forward.
She started the slow slide and he moved in to catch her. Meg was a slight girl but the force of her dead weight caught him by surprise. Every worry he’d held on to for the past year seemed to center in his gut as he slid his arm beneath her legs and picked her up, tools and all.
As he crossed the farmyard, only one question seemed burned on his brain: Was her cancer back?
It sounded dramatic but it wasn’t such a leap, considering what she’d been through. He hadn’t been there to see her illness the first time around and the idea of it nearly frightened him out of his boots. Nothing could happen to Meg. He wouldn’t let it. If she thought she could push everyone away this time she could think again.
Halfway to the house she stirred in his arms. Thank God. Her eyelids were fluttering and he could fee
l the heat of her against his sleeves. She was too hot.
“Put me down,” she insisted weakly, but Clay ignored her.
“Put me down,” she repeated, and this time Clay spared her a glance.
“Not a chance,” he ground out, his strides long and purposeful. Linda saw them coming and was on the front step, holding the door open.
“What happened?”
Linda’s face was ashen as she shut the door behind them and followed on Clay’s footsteps. Clay carried Meg straight through to the living room, still in his boots, and laid her on the sofa. For a breath of a moment his face changed, softened, and his hand grazed her cheek. Then her mother bustled in and the moment was lost.
Meg bit down on her lip. Clay had placed her so gently on the sofa she wanted to cry. Why couldn’t he be like this all the time? Why did it take such worry and fear to bring out this tender side of him? She blinked slowly and looked up into their faces. “Stop it,” she said loudly, so loudly it was startling in the quiet room. “Stop looking at me that way. I’m not dying.”
They both had the grace to look guilty at least. Meg moved to push herself up and Clay stepped in. She’d never seen his face so determined. So…her heart sank. Worried. Afraid. Not that he wanted her to see it. But she’d known him long enough to know when he was freaking out on the inside and the wild look in his eyes and stubborn set to his jaw told the tale. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he commanded. “I’m not catching you again.”
He’d caught her? Meg wanted to drop through the floor. Swooning like some…well, she didn’t know what. She had no experience with fainting. She felt like such a goose.
Linda put her hand to Meg’s forehead. “Lord, you’re burning up. I’m going for the thermometer.”
She hurried out of the room leaving Meg alone with Clay. “You can go now.” Meg mustered up her most dismissive voice. Clay only laughed. Harshly.
