by Cait London
The Blaylock brothers stared at her blankly. “It’s a few scratches from a cub,” Rio muttered roughly, as if embarrassed. “You think you can take me down, hot stuff?”
She eyed him, the difficult man who had torn her life apart She straightened her shoulders. He’d taken care of her, and she would take care of him, whether he liked it or not “Gel the disinfectant Those wounds need redressing.”
Rio stared at her, while his brothers began to grin. “Just who are you ordering around?”
“Get the trunk, Roman,” Kallista murmured with a grin. “I think we should leave.”
Roman’s black eyebrows shot up. His tone was incensed, protective, as he said, “Leave her, a sweet baby chick, with Rio? Stop leering at the girl, Rio. Look at that His fangs are showing and he’s drooling.”
Paloma blinked and studied Rio. His sexy grin was meant for her—for her, a woman who wasn’t even attractive, who was too tall, too cutting and awkward when she was around him. Still...Rio did look as if he’d like to kiss her—or haul her back to bed. She shivered, unused to being studied on desired.
Kallista reached up to pat Roman’s shoulder. “There, there, Dad. I think they can sort this out by themselves.”
“She should be staying with us. We’ve got enough room You and she should—” Roman stopped abruptly, as if he were about to say something he shouldn’t. Then he muttered darkly about Rio the “loverboy” and pushed James, Dan and Logan out the door. “Let’s get the rest of the furniture.”
“Furniture?” Paloma asked, aware that Rio had moved on in their relationship without asking her.
“A woman can’t live with a bed and a chair. I thought you might want to make the place more livable,” Rio said in a defensive tone. “It’s just some old things, but they’re made of good solid wood. Else sent my part of the folks’ things and Roman and the rest added a bit or two.”
“You think I’m moving in with you,” she stated slowly, carefully, and wanted to leap upon him, to ball her fist and—She realized suddenly that little tethered her from punching Rio. She clasped her fingers together and wondered why this one man could stir her emotions so vividly. “I’m a concert pianist, not a decorator or a housekeeper.”
“If you don’t want to do anything, that’s fine with me. The furniture is old anyway, just odds and ends. That cherry buffet was my mother’s. She kept her best tablecloths and silver in it. That old table served most of the families in Jasmine, and I’m the only one who has enough room for it now.”
Paloma studied the beautiful big cherry wood buffet; the elegant claw legs needed to be refinished. The airy remodeled barn beckoned to her, excitement running through her, she ached to care for it, to make it a home. She’d never had a home. Hotel rooms and rented, furnished apartments and skimming through life had left little time for settling into one special place. That pine armoire, the aged wood perfect against the room’s wood paneling—and the lovely old rocker needing cushions, and the sprawling big wood pioneer table, the twelve chairs piled beside it—
Rio locked his boots to the floor and she mourned the dried mud upon the lovely wood. His next sentence sounded more like a challenge than an invitation. “You can stay in my loft, or down here. I’ll finish the upstairs bathroom for you. There’s plenty of space.”
“Take the chair,” Paloma. ordered the Blaylocks quietly, locking her gaze with Rio’s as Kallista pointed to a space on the barren floor for the old camelback trunk and Roman and James placed it carefully on the floor.
His hand shot out to grip the chair. “Not...my...chair.”
Paloma shrugged, enjoying unbalancing Rio for a change. “Well, then. If I stay...if I stay...it will have to be repadded and recovered.”
Rio’s black brows drew together and both hands latched to the back of the chair. He glanced warningly at Kallista, who had just giggled. “What color?” he asked warily, as if worried that his baby would be dressed improperly for the ball.
“You’d have to leave that up to me. You’d have to trust me, wouldn’t you?” Paloma pushed, needing to torment him. She glanced at the men who were steadily bringing in lovely antique furniture and piling it in one corner, directed by Kallista. Heavy and worn, the furniture would be beautiful once refinished. Paloma’s hands itched to start stripping and cleaning and restoring. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself. “It can’t be that hard. I’ll buy a book.”
“She talks herself through new experiences,” Rio explained to his brothers and eased into the chair, like a soldier defending the last frontier fort. His hands gripped the arm cushions. “I’ve had this chair a long time. I just got it worn in.”
Roman, Logan, Dan and James came to stand behind him, crossing their arms and studying Paloma with their dark, lovely eyes. Kallista nudged Paloma with her elbow. “They don’t know what you’re going to do next You’re frightening them.”
“I am?” Paloma straightened, a little pleased that she’d had an impact on the powerful Blaylock males.
“You need to relax, not work yourself to death,” Rio began firmly.
“You need to rest, walk in the fields, take it easy,” James added.
“If you stay here with Rio, fixing up this empty old barn, you won’t have time to do much at the feed store, will you?” Roman suggested eagerly.
“Shoo,” Kallista managed when she stopped giggling. Paloma found that she had just smiled, fascinated by the wary males who were retreating outside.
Once alone with Kallista, Paloma glanced outside to the Blaylock men, who were clearly not amused with Rio. They circled him the moment they were outside, and their voices rumbled threateningly through the open doors. “I am going to make him pay,” Paloma said, meaning it. “He shouldn’t have started all this. I live quietly and on my own tarns.”
“Well, by the way he’s grinning, he doesn’t know that you’re going to make him pay. Or maybe he’s looking forward to it,” Kallista said, opening the old trunk that Paloma recognized from Boone’s home. “When you’re ready, I’d love to have you come to visit. And the offer to stay with us is always open. Else would like you to stay with her, too. She’s already lectured Rio about acting too quickly. If he doesn’t behave, you can count on her—”
“I can manage Rio Blaylock,” Paloma said, meaning it. She inhaled, clasping her hands to her chest as Kallista opened the camelback trunk, revealing Boone’s mother’s dresses. She bent slowly, running her fingers over the old material, decked in layers of lace.
“Boone wanted you to have these, too. They should fit you besutifially. I took the liberty of freshening them.”
Paloma smoothed a vintage dress, crocheted lace at the collar. If Boone was her father, these were her grandmother’s and she would cherish them. She couldn’t bear to touch them, and lifted her hand away to find it trembling. “They used to drag on the floor when I was a little girl playing dress-up.”
Kallista hugged her briefly and smiled. “She was a tall woman. They might fit now. Oh, look outside. The Blaylocks are deep in a discussion, and I bet it’s about cattle or feed or the rodeo this afternoon. Rio told Else that he’s taking you to the dance tonight. She’s excited about that. He’s never had a date for the dance before, though he’s been captured there and dragged off into the night. That is, if he’s still in one piece after the bull riding. Oh, look outside. That’s the furniture truck from Dora, a neighboring town. Rio got that cream-colored sofa you wanted”
“‘Bull riding?’” Paloma asked carefully, remembering how the huge black bull had surged into the moonlight, charging Frisco.
“Mmm. That sofa will be perfect,” Kallista said, peering outside to the men unloading the sofa. “Rio is a really good rodeo rider. He’s trying to learn more about classical music to please you. If he breaks a leg or anything, he’ll have lots of time to listen to all those new tapes and practice that new guitar.”
In her fear for Rio, Paloma didn’t have time to deal with his new musical interests. She hurried out
the door and shouldered her way through the tall brothers to face Rio. He looped an arm around her, dragged her close against him and continued the argument about which bull twisted higher and came down front-feet first, and which bull rammed against the arena’s boards. He wrapped Paloma’s fist in his hand before she could punch his side, brought it to his lips and kissed it, then continued with his argument. She tugged at his belt. “Rio?”
“Look at that,” he said, lifting her face to the bright Wyoming sunlight. “Did you ever see a prettier dimple?” he asked his brothers. He bent to kiss her cheek and continued talking. “Old Slew Foot starts bucking in the stall. He’s a sidewinder and that loose hide shifts under you.”
Paloma had to stop him from entering the rodeo. She glared up at him and wondered just what it would take to draw his attention away from his brothers. She studied him, this unique male who wanted her. She needed all of his attention, and an argument wouldn’t do, not right now. Rio stopped and stared down at Paloma, who had just gripped his face and drawn him down to kiss him. She stood back to study the results of her first experiment
Rio’s eyebrows shot up and he studied her, his hands caressing her waist Then a slow, sexy smile curled around his lips, the lines beside his eyes deepening. “Hello, honey,” he said softly, intimately.
“You’re not riding a bull, are you?” Paloma asked, still stunned that she had reached and claimed hum in front of his brothers. She glanced at them; the Blaylock brothers wore knowing smiles. “I cannot worry about blushing in front of them,” she whispered to herself.
“Why, honey, you can blush whenever you want. Don’t you want me to ride?” Rio reached out to smooth her long hair, studying it in the sunlight He ran his thumb along her flushed cheek.
Breathlessly Paloma stared back. She had all of his attention; he’d focused on her as if she were a tasty dish he wanted to devour...or a woman he wanted to hold for the rest of his lifetime. She swallowed, uncertain what to do with him now. She couldn’t declare how much she cared for him—“I think you should be careful,” she said quietly, picking her way through her thoughts. “You’re not that young. I’m told that old bones heal slowly.”
“Well, I could get hurt. I’d be all alone in this big house without someone to care for me. Uh-huh, just a lonely old man—but not too old, Paloma. I’m not exactly past my prime. Bulls can toss a man like a rag doll. Last year, a bull rider got gored so bad that—”
“Don’t you dare ride any bulls, Rio,” she shot at him, fear for him overriding all her cautions. She grabbed his shoulders and tried to shake him. He didn’t move.
Rio hooked his thumbs in his pockets and eyed her. “Well, then. I guess you care what happens to me, don’t you?”
She clasped her shaking hands together and opened her lips, then closed them. She decided against telling him that he was the only man she’d genuinely cared for—except Boone. That if he were hurt, she’d—With as much dignity as she could manage, Paloma walked back to the house. Inside she shook her head and threw up her hands. “This is all too much. Until now, I led a quiet life. A few demanding concerts, an agent with ulcers and a new hotel room every night All I had to worry about was if the piano was tuned and if the stage muffled the sound. Now, suddenly I’m endangering the only male outpost in the countryside, and Rio made a bed for me. For me,” she repeated, disbelieving. “He never wavers. He’s so certain about what he wants. He’s had a load of lovely old furniture delivered by brothers who are just as daunting. He’s hopeless.”
She ran her hand along the scarred table that had fed the Blaylock children. The vision of a family, of the home that she’d wanted as a child, leaped in front of her. “He’s high impact. Too many crescendos when I don’t expect them. There’s no rhythm or counterpoint to his melody. I feel like I’m in a tornado. I like soft, predictable music. This is all too much.”
Kallista laughed outright. “I know. Roman hit me like that, too. I’d never met a man like him. His honesty was shocking... to me, who had seen everything in the world. And he bought the biggest bed in two counties. I was embarrassed at the time, but now with our marriage certificate hanging over it, I’m having my baby in it.”
Paloma stalked across the room to the old piano. “Rio just says things outright. Shocking things. He talks about his heart and how he wants a family, and—we’re not a mix, Kallista. I’m not likely to settle in a small town. I just want to resolve the past and care for what Boone left me. I’m deeply tired and terrified by the way Rio causes me to react to him—I have never lost my temper before in my life. I have never grabbed a man’s face and kissed him to get his attention.”
She placed her hands along her hot cheeks. “I’m... embarrassed. I’ve performed all over the world, in front of the toughest audiences. I’m used to working with difficult people, but Rio... I think the safest thing may be to go up to the cabin and work things out by myself.”
“He’d just follow you.”
“Yes, he would and we’d argue. Until Rio, I never argued. It’s exhausting. I don’t understand one thing about him. And the incredible thing is, that last night I knew I’d be safe here, with Rio. I came back when I had the option of leaving. After I promised myself I’d never get involved again. Now Rio knows more about me than he should and he isn’t backing off. He isn’t taking hints.”
“Rio has always kept his home very safe from the women pursuing him. Yet he’s asked you here and wants to make you happy. You’re the first woman he’s actively pursued as an adult, and he evidently wants more than a casual affair. Why don’t you just take it a day at a time?”
“It’s been a long day already. I thought small towns were supposed to be quiet and boring.” She spotted a bucket of water under an outside faucet and knew what she had to do. “Excuse me, please. It’s nice having you here,” she added because she cared for Kallista and because for the first time, she had an odd sense of being the hostess in a home.
Rio studied the woman adjusting the chairs around the table. After the rodeo, she had that same hot look as when she dumped the bucket of water over his head. At six feet and tall enough to complete the task, Paloma had crooned, “Oh, Rio. I’ve got something for you.”
When he’d stood stunned and dripping in a pool of water, Paloma braced her legs apart and placed her hands on her hips. “Next time...ask.” She had turned to his brothers and said, “Thank you all for helping Rio. I hope you’ll come back.”
Now, after the rodeo and just as uncertain about Paloma and her reaction to him, Rio gripped the box that Else had given him. An unpredictable woman, Paloma wasn’t in a good mood and he feared her leaving. She flopped a doily in the center of the table and plopped a pottery pitcher filled with dried wildflowers on it. The arrangement seemed ominous. He wasn’t certain if she was happy or not. She’d seemed delighted when ordering him how to arrange the table. She tossed away his suggestions of taking the chairs into the barn, to repair them. “Don’t you dare take away one thing, Rio,” she’d ordered, eyeing him as if defending her nest. “And I think we should plant flowers to border the patio. Marigolds to contrast with the old red bricks and some impatiens—salmon color would go well, or dark reds.”
He noted that she hadn’t removed the dark red roses he’d placed in her hair before the rodeo. That was a good sign. So was her shy smile. He’d melted like warm butter as that dimple appeared, and she’d stood very still while he adjusted the four lush roses holding her hair away from her face. “I haven’t had flowers before, except for performances, and never in my hair,” she’d said quietly, and he’d wondered if his boots had floated off the floor.
“Every minute with you is a new experience for me,” he’d said, meaning it.
Now, Paloma glared at him and Rio considered that to be a bad sign. “After winning that bull ride you didn’t have to haul me up on your saddle and parade around the arena with me,” she stated.
The sound of her voice sent a tingle up his neck; he sensed Paloma gearing up for
an argument. Rio frowned; had he misunderstood Paloma leaving the lush roses in her hair? He’d been happy to be with her, and gathering her close to him at the rodeo had seemed natural.
“You kissed me right in front of the crowd. It wasn’t a sweet kiss, either,” she accused
“I wasn’t feeling brotherly.” Rio rubbed his hand across his cheek, trying to understand where he’d made his mistake. He’d been thinking how her eyes were as blue as the clear Wyoming sky. How he could spend his lifetime holding her. How the lush rose petals were no softer than her lips.
“That’s the problem. We’ve already made love. You know that my mother wasn’t perfect You know that I’m terrified of tight places and that I’m questioning who I am. You know my body.” She shook her head. “You know too much. I don’t like being exposed, all the weak places open for your inspection.” She removed the pottery jug that had held milk for the Blaylock children’s glasses and the doily his grandmother had crocheted, and placed them carefully aside. Staring at the table, she appraised its scarred but sturdy length. “Place mats... woven ones, or maybe a long runner straight down the middle.”
She threw out her hands and shook her head again, sending ripples down her long blue-black hair. Rio studied her, the frustrated gesture was new. That was good. Maybe. Or maybe not When he first met Paloma, she’d seemed controlled, even icy, and now she definitely was leaning a bit toward the emotional as she said, “I have no idea why I’m in the middle of this family thing. Look at all that lovely old furniture stacked up over there like so much—oh, look at that grand old mirror. Once the wood frame is refinished, it will look perfect in the corner, picking up the light from the door.”
“You think that after we’ve made love—beautiful love, by the way—there’s nothing left. Well, I’ve got news for you, lady...we’ve got the start of a good relationship. Why did you kiss me back?” he asked, feeling a little weathered around the edges. He held the box under his arm as he unlashed his chaps and tossed them aside, carefully noting that his favorite chair was still intact
