He rubbed a hand across his mouth, as if stopping himself from speaking.
“That’s what you implied earlier,” she persisted.
Shaking his head, he let out a sigh. “And I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have done a lot of things tonight.”
She instantly knew he was referring to kissing her, and a ball of fire that made the blaze on the platform look small ignited in her belly. He was accusing her of making him kiss her. He hadn’t said that, but that was how it felt. As if it was all her fault.
“It was most likely just what I told Bronco,” he said. “Someone upset with your father, or someone associated with Galen Reynolds. He had dealings with some tough characters.”
Josie didn’t know if she was mad or hurt, or a mixture of the two. All she knew was that it felt as if steam might soon shoot out of her ears. She now understood how foolish she’d been. Wanting him to kiss her. Letting him kiss her. She wasn’t like her sisters, never would be, and pretending she could have what they’d found was ridiculous. She didn’t need all that, either. It certainly wouldn’t fit in with her future. “Galen Reynolds had dealings with a lot of people. Are you going to tell me that was my fault, too?”
“Your fault?” He shook his head. “No, Josie, I’m not saying anything is your fault.”
“Oh, you’re not?”
“No, I’m not.”
She’d never wanted to cry so much before. Well, other than the day she’d been arrested. As a matter of fact, Scooter was the reason she’d wanted to cry that day, too. He’d been so mad. About as mad as she was right now. “Yes, you are. You think everything is my fault.” Skipping over the kissing part—which was the most painful—she stated, “No one in Duluth knows who I am, Scooter. No one.”
He grabbed her by the upper arms. “Josie, calm down. I never said—”
Pushing at his chest with both hands, she informed him, “You don’t have to say it. I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then you know I’m thinking about doing this.”
His lips landed on hers so fast she didn’t have time to respond. Verbally or mentally. His kisses completely shut off her thinking capabilities. Her lips, however, knew how to respond. They went into action, flying against his with all the frustration and fight she held inside. That soon changed. Her frustration. It turned into a need like no other.
When his tongue swept into her mouth, she grabbed on to his shoulders in order to plaster her entire length against him. There was no denying that was exactly what her body craved.
As her mind grew hazy, it momentarily snagged on an iota of reality. This couldn’t be what she craved. What she wanted. Scooter would be the last person to understand why she was helping Gloria.
Josie snapped her head back so fast her neck popped. The action caused a bit more common sense to prevail. All this kissing was making things worse. She pushed at Scooter’s shoulders, harder this time, and took a step backward. Then she did something she rarely did.
She ran.
Footsteps followed behind her, and she took a moment to shout over her shoulder, “Leave me alone, Scooter Wilson. Just leave me alone.”
Entering the resort through the front door, she was thankful the entire party was outside. There were no obstacles in her way whatsoever. She ran all the way to the second floor, through the door that separated the family living quarters from the rest of the resort, and into her bedroom, where she slammed and locked the door.
Chapter Seven
Josie slept in later than usual. She hadn’t fallen asleep until dawn was breaking. The clock beside her bed said it was well after ten. Pushing eleven, if her second glance was right. As flustered as she’d been the night before, she threw back the covers. At some point, she didn’t exactly remember when, she’d gotten undressed. The pea-green dress lay on the floor like a glob of moss.
She headed for the closet, trying not to glance at the black coat draped over her dressing table chair, but her eyes wouldn’t cooperate. She stubbed her toe on something, sending a shooting pain up one leg and making her hop on the other. She crossed the room like that, off-kilter and uncoordinated, until she caught herself from falling on the floor by slapping both hands against her closet door. Her nose smacked against the wood in the process, making it sting and her eyes water.
Pressing her forehead against the door, she waited for her toe and her nose to stop throbbing before she lifted her head.
A deep breath helped, so she took a second one, and a third. Then she pulled open the closet and chose a white blouse and dungarees. Gathering up a pair of soft-soled shoes with almost no heels, she snatched clean underclothes out of her dresser on her way to the door.
The bath, though she’d made it a fast one, helped her mood, and before leaving the bathroom, she pressed a couple of finger waves into her damp hair. A quick and final glance in the mirror gave her the satisfaction to nod at herself. At least she looked normal. Like the Josie she’d known her entire life. The one who had never—ever—spent half the night kissing Scooter Wilson.
That had been so foolish. So unlike her. She’d made up her mind some time ago as to what she wanted, and it didn’t involve Scooter. It didn’t involve any man. The events of late had confused her. Her sisters all getting married, for example. All that had interrupted her plan and she had to get back on track. She should look at all this as a blessing. Leaving wouldn’t be nearly as hard now, at least not once Norma Rose returned home. She’d have to accept that her father would need her for the next few weeks, but afterward she’d be free to proceed. On her own.
Well, not entirely alone. She’d still need Gloria.
A second wave of remorse overtook her. The repercussions of what had happened yesterday, when Scooter had stopped her and Gloria, were another issue. Something she’d need to resolve.
Determined to get back on an even keel, Josie marched out of the bathroom and down the hall.
The other bedroom doors lining the corridor were closed and silence echoed in her ears. For a place that had been overflowing with people a few hours ago, things were awfully quiet.
Then again, her father was an early riser. As was Norma Rose; her sister had been even before she’d started sleeping most nights in Ty’s cabin. The only one who might have slept in the family quarters last night was Ginger, but Josie doubted Brock would have wanted to sleep in Ginger’s bedroom. Everything in there was pink. Entering that room was like walking into a ball of cotton candy. Whether they’d slept in there or not, Ginger and Brock had probably already left. They’d planned on visiting Brock’s family today.
Josie pulled open the door that separated this portion of the second floor from the guest quarters and stopped dead in her tracks.
Scooter was there. He was stretched out, with his feet on one chair, his body on another and his hat pulled low over his face. A smile tried to creep onto her lips as a softness spread through the inner cavity of her chest.
She tugged her gaze away to glance up and down the empty hallway. He still had on the same clothes as last night. Right down to his high-topped boots. And suspenders. His white shirt was partially unbuttoned, exposing a long V of skin and dark curls.
Fighting to inhale enough air to keep from passing out, Josie weighed her options. She could back up and pull the door closed, or sneak past him. The sight of him was confusing her, making her forget why she’d been so mad at him last night. She was already unsure about exactly what had made her so angry. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She just hadn’t wanted to like it. She still didn’t.
There was only herself to blame for the pickle she was in, and she was the only one who could get herself out of it.
Josie eased the weight off her heels and tiptoed into the hallway.
An idea crossed her mind—that of kicking the chair out from beneath his feet. Twyla would do something like that and then wait to be chased. By Forrest, of course, not Scoo
ter. Josie could almost see it happening, Twyla squealing and Forrest kissing her once he’d caught her. The image in her mind quickly changed to that of her and Scooter.
“I can hear you.”
His voice startled her in one way. In another, she’d expected it. She’d thought he’d twitched.
“I can see you, too,” he added.
Planting her heels on the carpet, she crossed her arms. “Then why were you pretending to be asleep?”
He pushed back his hat and flashed her a grin. “I wasn’t pretending. At least not until you opened the door.”
Refusing to be affected by him in any way—ever again—she asked, “What are you doing here? It’s eleven o’clock in the morning.”
“Actually, it’s almost noon,” he said. “Do you always take that long in the bathroom?”
The way his eyes roamed from her toes to her hair sent fire-like heat zipping beneath her skin. Especially her breasts. His gaze had stalled on them briefly, making her tighten the arms she’d crossed over them. “You’d better hightail it out of here,” she warned. “Men are not allowed in the family quarters.”
He kicked his feet off the chair and swooped to a stand so quickly she took a step backward.
“I’m not in the family quarters,” he said, advancing toward her. “I wasn’t all night.”
“Father won’t like—”
“Your father saw that I was brought a pillow and a blanket.” He stopped far enough away to give her breathing room, and twisted his neck left and then right, stretching the muscles. “I should have taken him up on the bed he offered. Those chairs weren’t too comfortable.”
“You slept there all night?”
He stretched his arms wide. “Yep.”
Josie had to pull her eyes away from his shoulders, and the way the muscles rippled. “Why?”
“Someone had to make sure you didn’t creep off.”
She opened her mouth, but closed it before doing much more than swallowing a gulp of air. Then she recovered.
“Well, I didn’t sneak away, and I’m not going anywhere today, so you can leave now.”
“Can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
Arguing was useless, and flustered her, yet with him she couldn’t stop. “Why not?”
He snagged her arm and spun her around. “Because I don’t trust you.”
They were headed for the stairs, so she didn’t protest. Once downstairs she’d find an excuse, a chore that needed to be done. One wouldn’t form in her mind right now, but there would be lots of them. There always were.
Halfway down the staircase that ran along the wall leading into the ballroom, she ducked slightly to see through the arched doorway and into the dining room. The tables had all been replaced and set with tablecloths, napkins and silverware, ready for whomever chose to sit down, but no one was sitting. The room was empty.
“Where is everyone?”
“Family or guests?”
“Both,” she replied.
“Probably because Norma Rose was whipping out orders to disassemble the dance floor before the birds started tweeting, most of the guests left shortly after breakfast. I suspect a lot of them had long journeys home and tomorrow is a workday.”
Josie glanced up at Scooter and let her aversion to his smart attitude ooze from her gaze.
He grinned. “Your father decided last night that he’d drive Babe Ruth back down to New Ulm. Well, actually Walter drove them, in your father’s car. He and Babe decided making Forrest fly back down there the first day of being married was asking a bit too much. I agree with them. It was a nice sentiment. They left right after breakfast, too.”
Her sigh hadn’t fully escaped before he continued.
“As far as I know, Forrest and Twyla are still out on the island. Ginger and Brock left at the same time as your father and Babe.”
Stepping off the last stair, she pulled up her mouth into a false grin. “Well, in that case, I’ll go and see what Norma Rose needs help with.”
He hadn’t let go of her arm, and he tugged her backward when she attempted to walk away. “I just told you she’s been cracking the whip since the sun came up.”
“So?” Josie asked.
“So, she’s not here.”
“Not here?” Josie shook her head. “Norma Rose would never leave the resort unattended.”
“She didn’t. You’re here, I’m here—”
His smugness was irritating. “Where is she?” Josie asked.
“She and Ty went to St. Paul to see a picture show.”
“They did not,” Josie insisted. “Norma Rose would never...” Actually, the old Norma Rose wouldn’t. The one that had emerged since Ty had arrived was different. She and Ty were always going places together. Still, Josie knew one thing for sure. “She would never leave guests unattended to.”
“They are being attended to,” he said. “By a dozen employees.”
That wasn’t exactly what she had meant. “Norma Rose—”
“Left Gloria in charge,” Scooter whispered in her ear. “Which is why I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”
Josie’s insides quivered, though it wasn’t with dread.
“Come on.” He tugged on her arm. “I’ll let you eat something before we leave.”
“Leave?”
Steering her down the hallway toward the kitchen, he said, “I need you to help me clean the raft and float it ashore. I don’t want a boat to accidently run into it.”
The idea of spending the day with Scooter was growing on her. As ridiculous as that was. It probably had something to do with the idea of facing Gloria today. That made her stomach ache. The other woman was sure to be mad about yesterday, and Gloria’s wrath was a force to reckon with.
“What about Dac?” Josie asked. “Can’t he help you?”
“Dac had a bit more to drink than he should have last night. His dad hauled him and his motorcycle home in their farm truck in the early hours of the morning.”
“Really?” she asked, only to give herself a moment longer to think. If there was no one else to help Scooter, she should. It would be the right thing to do. However, it would make her think about all sorts of wrong things. Maybe she should just go back to bed.
“Yep. At least that’s what Brock told me when he and Ginger came up to bed.”
The thought that he’d already been in the hallway then made her feet stumble, but she set them straight before his stride was broken. “You were really on those chairs all night?” She truly hadn’t believed him before, especially about her father giving him the pillow and blanket.
“Yep.”
Tucking that knowledge aside for deeper consideration later, she asked, “Brock slept in Ginger’s room?”
“Yes, although, at breakfast, your father promised he’d have the room painted before Brock and Ginger visit again.”
His wink made her feet stumble again.
He caught her arm this time, and held it until they arrived at the kitchen. Pushing the door open, he made a sweeping bow. “After you, my lady.”
* * *
Scooter had never been in the resort’s kitchen, and the size of it was a bit intimidating. The three refrigerators that lined the back wall made the one he’d purchased for his mother last year look like an icebox. That refrigerator had cost him a pretty penny, and he couldn’t rightly fathom how much each of these must have cost. Not to mention the two stoves and the cupboards and counters. He knew Moe, the assistant cook, well. He worked on the man’s car, along with Silas’s vehicle. Silas was the main cook and Moe explained to Josie that his boss had the day off as he ushered them to a small round table on the far side of the room.
“Sit down, sit down,” Moe said. “I’ll fix you both something to eat. It’s been a while since breakfast. Not too many to cook for today. They all skedaddled. Doesn’t look like there will be many for tonight, either. Not with everyone off in all directions.”<
br />
Scooter sat and watched Josie’s cheeks turn pink as Moe rattled on about all the girls getting married, swept off their feet by handsome gentlemen. The balding cook made it all sound like one of the fairy tales in the books Maize was always checking out from the library.
The man never stopped talking, but that didn’t seem to interfere with his cooking. In no time he had bowls of potato soup, along with egg salad sandwiches, on the table.
“I had the soup simmering on the stove,” Moe said.
“Thank you,” Josie answered. “It looks delicious.”
“I’ve never known you to sleep in so late,” Moe said. “Putting on that party yesterday must have worn you plum out.”
Josie’s cheeks turned red again. Scooter tried to stop thinking about how cute she looked fresh out of her bath by spooning in a mouthful of soup. The soup was tasty, but not even the large chunks of bacon could distract his thoughts.
“That was quite a party,” Moe said, sitting down in a chair. “Silas was beside himself. He worked for two days on just the cake. He wanted it to be perfect for Twyla.” Moe propped his elbow on the table in order to set his chin in his palm. “Next it will be Norma Rose.” Sighing, the cook added, “And then you.”
Josie’s spoon clattered against the side of her bowl, and for a moment, Scooter thought it was his. The way his hand had shook at the cook’s words, it could have been.
“That won’t be for a very long time, Moe,” she said.
Moe lifted a brow before he shook his head. “I know your daddy hopes that. He’d be beside himself to lose all his girls in one summer. The man wouldn’t know what to do with himself. I suspect he’d learn to live with it, though.”
A heavy silence filled the room then, a silence only made thicker by the clink of their spoons scooping up soup. Moe was looking between the two of them, and much like Josie was doing, Scooter kept his gaze from meeting anyone else’s.
By the time the meal was over, his stomach was acting as if he’d eaten a bowl of grasshoppers instead of the thick and delicious soup. Marriage was not something he contemplated. Especially not to Josie. That would be a far-fetched fairy tale. The Princess and the Grease Monkey. Although he figured he had enough money to pay for the lemon-scented perfume she’d sprayed on her wrists this morning—it had been the first thing that had hit him when he heard the door open earlier—he’d never make the kind of money her father made.
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