by Stacey Kayne
“Don’t tell Skylar. She’ll add beating rugs and pinning clothes on the line to my list of chores.”
His smile was slow and lethal, making the ache in her breasts spiral throughout her body. Dear Lord. She wasn’t sure she didn’t prefer his brooding moods to the smiles and charm he’d been displaying lately. His relaxed presence, the sight of his dark hands on the white linen—stop thinking about it! She only wanted a brother, and he deserved a real wife.
“You and Skylar seem to be getting along real well,” he said.
“Oh, Skylar’s lovely.” She’d never felt a stronger friendship with a woman.
“So are you.”
Chance tensed as his words echoed back on the light breeze.
Where the hell had that come from?
Cora Mae laughed off the compliment and lifted the basket of folded laundry. “Thank you for the help.”
She turned and walked back to the house.
Chance hadn’t complimented a woman since he didn’t know when. And she’d simply shrugged off his words.
“Have you changed your mind?” he called after her.
“About what?”
“Leaving.”
She stopped at the base of the steps, her expression wary. “It was never my intention to stay here, Chance. But I’ll help out as long as Skylar needs me.”
“Hell, Cora, we all need you. You won’t find a soul on this ranch who wouldn’t beg you to stay.”
Her instant smile warmed him from the inside out.
“Thank you for saying so.”
“Nothing but the truth.” The truth felt damn good. “Well, I should get back. You have a nice afternoon.”
“You, too.”
When he reached the stable doors, he turned and glanced back. Cora Mae stood where he’d left her, staring after him. Even at that distance he could see her startle at being caught. She turned and quickly hustled up the steps.
Chance smiled as he turned back to the stable. Yes, sir. Being nice felt real good.
“Done with the laundry?”
Garret stood just inside the stable doors, the rope Chance had dropped slung over his shoulder. Anger sparked in his hazel eyes.
“I was just helping out a bit.”
“Uh-huh. Lately, it seems like every time I look sideways the two of you are huddled up together, whispering.”
All that whispering had been Cora Mae’s insistence that he tell Tucker about Wyatt, and Chance’s flat refusal. None of which was any of Garret’s business. “What? Are you jealous?”
“I liked her first!”
Chance couldn’t help but laugh. “Kid, I am not in competition with you.”
“You think I don’t see the way you look at her?”
Damnation. He’d hoped no one had witnessed the way he’d been looking at her. But then, Garret had been watching Cora Mae with the possessive eyes of a love-struck kid.
“Plenty of men marry at my age.”
“Marry? Cora Mae?”
“Sixteen is old enough to marry,” he insisted.
“First you have to find a woman willing to marry a sixteen-year-old kid. Let me save you some humiliation. Cora Mae isn’t that woman.”
“I say she is.” Garret squared his broad shoulders and puffed his chest out. “And I think it’s about time you stopped calling me kid.”
“First you’ll have to stop acting like one,” Chance said, true anger clenching his muscles. “Don’t gripe at me because you’re not man enough to win the woman you’ve set your sights on.”
“The hell I’m not! I’m every bit the man you are!”
Chance wasn’t about to deny the fact. Garret shouldered the same workload as every other man on the ranch, and did so without complaint. But a grown man would have picked up on Cora Mae’s disinterest in him by now. It wasn’t any fault of his that she didn’t blossom under the kid’s attention. The realization nearly brought a smile to Chance’s lips.
“So what are you worried about? Seems to me you should be focusing on your courtship tactics. Maybe you ought to run out and pick her some more flowers.”
“Maybe I should help her fold sheets,” Garret suggested in a biting tone.
“Or maybe you could take a good look through those grown-up eyes and notice that she’s flat not interested in you.”
Garret’s eyes narrowed to slits. “We’ll see about that,” he said, stomping toward his horse with the rope.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chance shifted his shoulder and realized his body was a mass of knotted tension. The kid was setting himself up for heartache. Cora Mae wouldn’t succumb to his attention.
Chance wasn’t one for sitting around the house at night when there was work still to be done. On a ranch their size, there was always something that needed doing, and he’d never wanted to crowd his brother’s time with his family. Tonight he found himself curious about everyone’s evening activities. For the first time, he opted to bathe directly after supper.
Tucking in a clean shirt, he headed for the front stairwell. The murmur of conversation filtered up from below. Halfway down the stairs he spotted Cora Mae, one of the girls nestled in her arms as she sat beside Skylar on the sofa. Skylar held a long wooden needle and a handful of yellow yarn. Tucker sat on the floor, reclined against the sofa, a baby lying in the cradle of his folded legs as he stacked a block onto a tower. Josh sat on his knees near the growing castle, his blue eyes dark with concentration.
Another step down and his gaze landed on Skylar’s brother standing before the hearth. Garret’s hazel eyes hardened at the sight of him coming downstairs.
This was his house. If he wanted to sit inside for some evening conversation, he damn well would.
“Evening,” Chance said, walking into the room. He dropped into a big chair across the room from Cora Mae.
Tucker eyed him curiously. Skylar’s hands fell idle on the yellow weave as she stared at him.
Damn. Couldn’t a man sit in the company of his own family?
Josh looked over his shoulder at him. “Hi, Unco ’Ance.”
He grinned at his nephew who instantly turned back to his building.
“Would you tell them I don’t need payment,” Cora Mae said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
Judging by the stubborn set of her jaw, they’d all been having a heated debate. His curiosity piqued, he crossed his ankles and eased back in the chair.
“Payment for what?”
“Slaving away in a hot kitchen from sunup to sundown,” said Tucker. “Not to mention all the chores in between.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
“Like hell,” Tuck countered.
Skylar’s knee bumped his back.
“I mean heck,” Tucker amended, glancing at his son, who didn’t seem to notice anything beyond his towers.
Chance grabbed a newspaper from the floor beside him and shook it out, figuring his brother had all the experience when it came to handling stubborn women.
“You’ve been working from dawn to dusk for weeks,” Tucker continued.
“It’s true,” Skylar added. “We would have had to hire someone to help out after the babies were born.”
“Not to mention all the pretty needlework you’ve done for the house,” said Garret.
“That’s right,” Tucker agreed. “You’ve been an asset to the household.”
“And you have fed and sheltered me these past weeks.”
“We feed and shelter the men in the bunkhouse too,” Tucker informed her. “Yet they don’t complain about taking their pay.”
Chance smiled into the blur of newspaper print. Tucker was right. Cora Mae had worked just as hard as the rest of them. She deserved wages.
“I had rather hoped you thought of me as family,” she said softly. “Not a hired hand.”
“Exactly,” said Tucker. “This family runs a business. We all work our tails off and we all take our cut.”
Cora was running out o
f words, and patience. It didn’t feel right to take even a cent from them. She hadn’t come here looking to profit from them. She glanced toward the newspaper and long denim-clad legs crossed at the ankles, which was all she could see of Chance. His accusations on the day she’d arrived hadn’t faded from her mind. She wasn’t looking for a handout.
“It’s really not necessary.”
“Cora Mae?”
The sound of her full name spoken in Chance’s deep drawl could have been a caress for the way it jolted her senses. All it took was the smooth rumble of his voice for her body to react.
Smiling green eyes glanced at her from over the newspaper. “You won’t win this one, darlin’. You’re outnumbered four to one.”
Her breath lodged in her throat. Certain she was red from her chin to her hairline, she glanced at Skylar.
“He’s right,” she said. “You could use a new spring dress and I know for a fact that a shipment of fabric comes in tomorrow. Those women in town are like vultures,” Skylar said bitterly. “They’ll have the general store picked clean by sundown. I had hoped to ride along, but I’m not ready to leave the girls.”
“You could ride along, Cora,” said Tucker. “You’ve got an eye for fabric and could do some shopping of your own.”
“I’d be very appreciative if you’d go,” Skylar added. “My girls will need clothes before the next supply of fabrics comes through.”
She supposed it would be nice to pick up a few things for herself. “All right. I’ll go along. But I’m still not comfortable about taking wages.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Chance said from behind the paper.
“I could ride along, too,” said Garret.
“No can do,” Tucker countered. “We’ve got corrals full of horses and a deadline looming. I can’t spare two men for half a day.”
“I leave at daybreak,” said Chance. “Not sunup. Daybreak.”
She was going with Chance? She glanced around, half hoping someone would rebuke his remark.
Garret stomped toward his room, clearly mad about not being able to go, though she now wished Tucker had relented. Her gaze was drawn to the newspaper Chance held up across the room.
Her heart constricted at the thought of spending the day alone with the man hidden behind the headlines.
Chapter Thirteen
“G ood morning, Mr. Morgan,” said a soft feminine voice.
“Morning,” came Chance’s cool reply.
Cora tried to keep her focus on the bolts of gingham and lace piled on a makeshift table as Chance did his best to gather other supplies while practically tripping over women nudging others out of their way for his attention.
“Mr. Morgan,” said another breathless harlot.
“Morning.”
“I’ve a mind to make a new spring dress. I just can’t decide on the color. Perhaps you can suggest one?”
Of all the impertinent…!
“Well,” said Chance.
Cora glanced up, quite curious to hear his suggestion.
A pretty girl with light hair and eyes smiled up at him. He did look dashing in his dark hat and long range coat. The heavy canvas concealed the double holster hanging at his hips. She’d been surprised by the gunbelt this morning, but after his experience two weeks ago, she couldn’t blame him for traveling armed. Since they’d arrived at the general store, she’d begun to wonder if he’d strapped on his guns to defend himself from the local women.
He caught Cora’s gaze from across the room. The irritation chiseled across his features was as plain as the nose on his face. Cora bit her lip against a laugh. She nearly felt sorry for him. His instant smile awakened the butterflies that had been living inside her lately. He winked at her before turning back to the ever-attentive young woman standing before him.
“Why don’t you ask my stepsister, Miss Tindale,” he suggested. “She has far more experience with such things.”
“Oh.” The woman spared a quick glance her way. “Well…thank you.”
Chance glanced back at Cora Mae and found her smiling.
“I’d be delighted to help,” she said. Her fingers held the end of an apricot-colored fabric she’d been eyeing for a time. He could envision a summer dress, the soft color a perfect contrast against her pale skin.
He continued toward the side counter and hoped the other ladies flocking around the fabric table had gotten the message—he wasn’t in town to socialize.
“Heard you had a woman out on your place,” said Andrew Stone as he stepped up to the counter. “Sister, huh?”
“Stepsister,” Chance amended.
“You ought to bring her by next weekend for the town social.”
“Since when does this mining depot host town socials?”
“Since my wife decided to throw one together.”
Mrs. Stone, a stern-looking woman of sturdy build, didn’t seem the tea-toddling type. She stood amid the flutter and bustle around the fabric table, sheers in one hand, her sleeves pushed up over her thick forearms. Sweat glistened on her wide brow as she measured out yards of fabric.
“She figured this shipment of material will have the ladies sewing up a storm and looking for a place to flaunt their new outfits.”
“A regular husband roundup, huh?”
“Or wife, depending on how you look at it,” Stone retorted.
“I take it you’re charging a fee for this town social?”
“Just for the refreshments,” he said with a grin. “Spring’s in the air, you know? The cold of winter will be on us before you know it. Winters can be awful long without a woman to keep you warm. She’s nice lookin’,” he said, sizing up Cora as though she were a prize mare. “Bet she has an offer within the first hour.”
The last thing Cora Mae needed was to be ogled by a bunch of lonely miners. “I’ll mention it to my crew.”
“You do that,” said Stone.
By the time he had all the supplies loaded in the wagon, Cora Mae had made it through the line of women waiting to have their fabric measured and cut by Mrs. Stone. Cora Mae seemed to be enjoying herself. He figured it must have taken three dozen pins to get her hair up in the tight, twisted coils at the crown of her head. Long curls hung around her face, knocked loose during the ride to town. She chatted pleasantly with the other women, yet somehow stood out from the plain faces of the other young ladies and older biddies crowded around her.
It’s the light of her smile—pure as sun spray.
Realizing he was staring, he turned his attention to the candy jars on the counter. As he picked out an assortment of sweets for Josh, Cora Mae approached with a stack of cut fabric. Right away Chance noticed something was missing.
The apricot.
“Have you forgotten our agreement?” he asked.
“What agreement was that?”
“That you’d purchase some supplies for yourself. Surely you could use a spring dress or two.”
Color tinged her cheeks. He didn’t see why. It wasn’t as though he’d suggested she needed new bloomers. Though she probably did.
“Mine is on the bottom,” she said.
Chance glanced back at the stack and noticed the dark muslin beneath the folded pieces of green, pink, white and blue gingham.
“The brown?”
Her brow puckered with a frown. “You don’t like it?”
“You do?”
“I don’t have a brown dress.”
True enough. She also didn’t have an apricot dress, but he was sure that pointing that out would be borderline inappropriate. “A brown dress will be real nice,” he said, wanting to ease the concern he’d put in her gaze, figuring brown wouldn’t look bad. Though it wouldn’t look much different than the dark gray she wore now or the black dresses in her wardrobe. There was nothing wrong with having a little variety.
“That apricot was real pretty, too.”
“The chiffon?” She shook her head. “Too expensive, and the lighter fabric would take more yardage.”
>
He didn’t care how much it cost, he wanted to see her in apricot. “Have you gotten all you need, then?”
“Yes. I finished Skylar’s list before sorting through the material.”
“Why don’t you walk down to the depot while I settle up here, see if any packages have arrived for Skylar?”
“Okay.” She turned away.
As Cora Mae reached the door, Salina stepped inside. Chance’s gut soured at the sight of her.
“Miss Tindale,” Salina said, her smile clearly forced.
“Mrs. Jameson.” Cora Mae’s tone carried the same underlay of steel. She continued past her and started across the busy road.
Chance made his way to the fabric table. Spotting the long spool of apricot, he reached into the pile and pulled out the soft fabric.
“Mr. Morgan?” said Mrs. Stone, looking away from her line of ladies. “Shall I cut some for you?”
“Nope. I’ll take the whole thing.”
The woman blanched. “The entire bolt?”
A dozen envious eyes glanced at the fancy fabric.
“The whole thing,” Chance confirmed, and carried it to the counter. “Wrap that up for me, would you, Stone?”
Mr. Stone’s eyebrow shot up. “Sure thing.”
“Aren’t you the sweetest brother-in-law.” Salina smiled brightly.
Considering she’d walked up to him without a trace of hesitation, he could only guess that her foreman hadn’t filled her in on all of his recent activities.
“Though not quite the color I’d choose for Skylar.”
“I’m not buying it for Skylar.”
Her smile widened. Did she think it was for her?
“Here you go,” said Mr. Stone, placing his paper-bound parcel on the counter.
“Did you hear about the town social next week?” asked Salina.
He was about to suggest she go with her foreman when he caught sight of Cora Mae through the shop window. She charged across the street as though running from a pack of wolves.
He tugged a pouch of coin from his pocket and tossed it onto the counter. “That ought to cover it, Stone. If not, put it on my tab.” He grabbed the pile of sweets and fabric and rushed to the door.
