by Stacey Kayne
“I can’t disagree with you.” He pressed his hand to the small of her back and guided her to the kitchen.
Cora forced herself to relax at his touch.
“My breath didn’t come easy until I saw both those babies tucked in their mama’s arms,” he said, pulling a chair out for her at the kitchen table.
“Really?”
He struck a match, his incredulous expression clear in the glow of the flame. “I guess you didn’t notice me and Garret quaking in our boots?” He lit the table lamp, spreading the warm light across the room before he walked into the pantry.
She’d seen Garret’s fear, and Tucker’s, but Chance had seemed as calm as ever. He came back to the table with a corked bottle and two glasses. Cora tensed, certain the bottle contained some sort of liquor.
“Tension has been riding our spines since the moment we knew she was carrying two babies.” He set a glass in front of each of them, then uncorked the bottle.
“I can imagine,” Cora said, well aware that their mother had died giving birth to them, and wondering if such thoughts often drove Chance to drink. Fear and disappointment warred over the possible answer. “It must have been frightful.”
“It was damn terrifying is what it was.”
Chance rolled his shoulders against the tension still pinching his spine. He hadn’t just been afraid for his sister-in-law. Losing Skylar would have destroyed his brother, just as their mother’s death had killed part of their father. It just wasn’t safe to let a woman have such control over a man’s life.
He reached out and poured a couple of inches of whiskey into each glass. “This will help to settle your nerves.”
He nudged the second glass toward Cora Mae. She sat straight as a fence post, her wide gaze locked on the small glass.
“I don’t drink spirits.”
“Neither do I.” He grimaced as he picked up the shot of whiskey. “A toast to the prettiest little girls to ever grace God’s earth.” He clicked his glass against the one sitting in front of Cora Mae, closed his mind to memories of the past, and sent the flaming liquid down his throat.
“I hate the stuff,” he said, chasing the burn and bitter taste with a deep breath. “But my nerves need some fast soothing.”
He slid Cora Mae’s glass closer. “Your turn.”
Eyes already the size of saucers drew even wider and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Go on,” he urged. “Give a toast and toss it back.”
“It will help?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Hmm?” She pinned him with a narrowed gaze. “Let me think…‘Just jump in, Cora Mae, it’s only knee-deep.’”
The image of orange braids and pink bows slipping beneath the surface of the pond flashed in Chance’s mind. His laughter was instant. “We did teach you how to swim that summer.”
“After you nearly drowned me!”
“You won’t drown in that shot of whiskey.”
“Whiskey?” Cora picked up the glass and took a strong sniff. The scent didn’t seem entirely repugnant, in fact, it smelled strangely sweet.
“You were hoping for something else?”
Chance’s teasing grin was far too charming. She laughed and shook her head. “I can assure you I’ve never consumed liquor of any sort. How fitting that the first time should be with you.”
His smile widened. “Should I dare you, for old-time’s sake?”
She laughed again, thinking his shot of whiskey must have worked. He certainly seemed relaxed, reclined in his chair, a smile on his lips.
“Oh, very well.” She sighed and raised her glass.
“Don’t forget to toast,” he said, amusement shining in his eyes.
This was the side of him she had desperately missed, sweet yet utterly mischievous.
“To Grace and Emily,” she said mockingly, certain drinking whiskey in the name of their infant nieces made it nonetheless improper. With a last uncertain look at the alarmingly pleasant man beside her, she swallowed the golden liquid, which burned its way down her throat like molten molasses.
“See? Not so bad.”
“Not bad?” she wheezed, then coughed as tears rushed to her eyes.
“You always were gullible,” he said with a chuckle.
“I was never gullible. I simply trusted you.” She licked a coating of surprisingly sweet vapor from her lips.
“Want another?”
“Certainly not!”
“You catch on fast enough. And from what I recall, you got even with us on several occasions.”
“I wouldn’t have been much of a little sister if I couldn’t best you some of the time.”
Chance folded his arms on the table as his mind filled with memories of running through the woods, water splashing over moonlight, Cora Mae’s wild giggles. “Sometimes I need reminding that the past wasn’t all bad.”
“You and Tucker were the brightest spot in my childhood.”
The sadness reflected in her eyes hinted of her life after he’d left, of a promise he’d failed to keep. He wanted to see a harmless little girl with orange braids when he looked at her. Instead he saw the loose auburn curls and cautious brown eyes of an attractive woman whose sweet smile made his mouth go dry.
“I must admit,” she said, “you’re a tad frightening as an adult.”
“Am I?”
“You do like to intimidate.”
He eased back in his chair and shrugged, not about to deny the fact. “If you don’t push in this world, you get pushed.”
“Quite right,” she said softly. “Another lesson I could have learned from my stepbrothers.”
Seemed to him she’d already mastered the technique. She pushed him on too many levels. He knew better than to trust her, he didn’t want to like her, yet he was all too tempted to press his mouth to hers and find out if she tasted as sweet as she looked.
Footsteps coming from the dining room brought him back to his senses. They both looked up as Tucker walked into the kitchen.
“Everything okay?” asked Chance.
His brother’s smile was so wide it appeared he might burst with pride at any moment. “Everything’s great. Skylar’s hungry.”
“I’ll fix her a plate.” Cora Mae surged up, swayed and quickly grabbed the table to steady herself. She blinked hard before casting an accusing glare at him.
What? he silently mouthed, feigning a look of innocence. He hadn’t told her there wouldn’t be side effects. He chuckled silently, watching her take slow cautious steps toward the pantry.
“Since when do you drink whiskey?” asked Tucker, his twisted expression targeting the table.
“We gotta watch Cora Mae,” he said in a loud whisper, “she likes to tip the bottle.”
“I do not!” she called out from the shadows.
He and Tuck grinned at each other, and Chance recalled just how good it felt to tease her. “We were toasting our new nieces,” he said. “Emily and Grace tucked in okay?”
“Snuggled up to their mama. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Prettiest little girls I’ve ever seen,” Chance agreed. “That’s quite a family you’ve got.”
“Girls,” Tuck said, shaking his head. “What am I going to do with two girls?”
“If they’re anything like their mother, you and Josh had better rest up now. They’ll be roping and riding circles around y’all in no time.”
“I’m sure glad it’s over and everybody’s healthy.” Tucker sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. “Skylar’s amazing, isn’t she?”
Chance smiled, fully enjoying his brother’s elation. “She is. You’d better take her that food before she hauls those babies down here to get it herself.”
Cora stepped beside him and held out a plate and a glass of water.
“Thanks,” Tucker said. “For everything.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“Good night.”
Chance took the bottle back to t
he pantry and set their glasses in the sink. Cora waited for him at the base of the stairs.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you.” She laid her hands against his chest and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Good night, Chance.”
Chance didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He stood motionless, listening to her rapid footsteps as she ascended the stairs and the sporadic beat of his pulse. Her sweet scent lingered in the air.
Her actions hadn’t been flirtatious. He’d seen nothing but warmth and kindness in her gaze as she’d pressed her lips to his skin, the touch as light and fleeting as a butterfly’s. So why had he been hit by the wild urge to capture her mouth with his?
He wasn’t a man controlled by lust. He damn sure wasn’t a man who could be manipulated by a Tindale.
Chapter Five
C hance woke to the pleasing scent of fresh biscuits and sizzling bacon; his body was fully aroused by the lingering image of soft warm curves, long auburn curls and a white nightdress falling to the floor.
Damnation.
He sat upright in a tangle of sheets, shifting his feet to the cold floor in the same motion.
He couldn’t get away from her. Not even in his sleep!
Sunlight cast shadows across his room, telling him he’d overslept. The men in the bunkhouse would be through with morning chores and likely finished with breakfast by now. Shoving his covers aside, he stood and walked to his bureau. The cool morning air on his skin did little to douse the fire simmering in his blood. He lifted a pitcher of water, filled the basin and dunked his hands, washing away the feel of white cotton slipping from his fingers as he splashed his face.
What was his problem? It wasn’t as if he’d even seen her in a nightdress! She’d been fully clothed last night. Which struck him as odd, now that he thought about it. At nearly two in the morning, everyone else had been in their nightclothes—except him. Surely she didn’t sleep in the buff.
Drying his face, he pinched his eyes shut, fighting the image from his mind.
Just stop thinking about her!
Fifteen minutes later he was dressed and shaved. As he neared the base of the stairs, he paused, his gaze landing on five feet of curves and curls standing before the stove. Cora Mae hummed softly as she whisked the contents of a bowl nuzzled against her chest. Sunlight glittered like embers against the wild wisps of hair cascading down her back, the thick mass twisted into a knot at the nape of her neck.
A baby’s sharp cry carried through the house from upstairs, along with the murmur of voices.
Realizing he was huddled on the stairwell, Chance bit back a curse and continued down. The strong scent of coffee beckoned him toward the stove. A plate of crispy bacon and a basket piled with warm biscuits sat on a table set for four. Joshua’s highchair had been brought in from the dining room. She’d been busy.
The contents of her bowl met a hot skillet with a hiss. Focused on what she was doing, she didn’t notice him as he reclined against the table behind her.
She wore another plain dress with puffy long sleeves—today’s a charcoal gray. A white apron defined the curve of her waist, the strings tied in a perfect bow against the small of her back. Wide ruffles capped her shoulders. Everything about her was crisp and proper, just as she’d come to him in his dream, draped in white from her chin to her toes.
His body tensed. She has to go.
She wasn’t just an attractive woman, she was Cora Mae. Her big brown eyes still had a way of burrowing beneath his defenses, making him feel more than he wanted to, more than he should.
She turned and jumped, those cinnamon eyes flaring wide at the sight of him standing just a few feet behind her. “Goodness!” She pressed a hand to the generous swell of her bosom.
“Morning,” he said, realizing he probably should have given a greeting long before now.
“How can someone as big as you creep about like a church mouse?”
“Boots are at the back door,” he said, and watched her gaze drop to his stocking-covered feet. A smile eased her expression, and he found himself irritated all over again and wondering why she was here, in his kitchen, making him think about such foolish things as her sleeping attire.
“How long do you intend to be here?”
Her slender eyebrows shot up. “Ah…um, a couple of weeks perhaps?”
“So you have somewhere else to go.”
Her back stiffened, her expression pinched as though he’d insulted her. It wasn’t as if he’d told her to leave; he just wanted some reassurance that she would, eventually.
“I’m wondering what your plans are,” he said. “You came west intending to stay, didn’t you? Or is this just a holiday from your boardinghouse job back east.”
“I intend to stay. I’ll settle wherever I find work.”
“I suppose you prefer the comforts of city life?”
“I prefer to live around people who appreciate me.” She turned her attention back to the stove. “Should that be in the city, the country or the middle of nowhere, it matters not. I’m quite adaptable and hardly hapless.”
“Yet you traveled clear across the country and seem to have forgotten to pack your nightclothes.”
She whipped back around. “I beg your pardon?”
“A nightdress,” he said, figuring it was too late to take back his observation. “It was nearly two in the morning when you popped out of your room, fully clothed.”
Her fisted hands landed on her hips. “What about you?” she demanded.
“Me?”
“As you said, it was two in the morning and you weren’t wearing pajamas.”
“I don’t own any.”
A single amber eyebrow arched in clear challenge. “Well, neither do I.”
Chance’s mind instantly filled with the image of Cora Mae wearing nothing but bed linens, then nothing at all.
Good God.
He turned away from her and headed for the door. “Tell Tuck I’ll be starting on the south side,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse.
“Don’t you want breakfast?” she called after him.
The slamming door was his only answer, sending a surge of disappointment resounding through Cora. She had hoped they’d made amends last night, but it seemed his good mood had been a temporary state.
She turned back to the stove and dug a spoon into the mixture of eggs bubbling in the skillet, struggling with a strange combination of frustration and flutters. The man could certainly fill a room. Crisp and clean shaven, he’d been a sight in his tousled hair and stocking feet. And a complete bully the moment he’d opened his mouth. What should he care if she slept in her day clothes?
She’d left her nightdress in a heap on the floor in her mother’s house and didn’t care if she ever wore another, for all the protection it had afforded her. She’d just as soon sleep in boots and men’s britches. None of which was any of Chance’s business!
“An’ Cora! An’ Cora!”
Joshua raced into the kitchen bouncing with energy. Cora’s heart warmed at her new title. She’d never been an aunt before.
“Good morning, Joshua.”
“I hold da babies!”
“You did?”
Tucker strode in behind his son, his smile wide. “He’s a little excited about his sisters.”
“How’s Skylar?”
“Up and around,” he said as he lifted Joshua into his high chair, “and trying to figure out how to handle two hungry babies at once. Emily has proven to be the impatient one. Garret will be down in a minute. He was keeping Grace occupied.” He glanced at the set table. “I’m surprised Chance isn’t down by now.”
“He was. He said to tell you he’s starting on the south side.”
“Figures.” Chuckling, he placed a biscuit on Joshua’s tray. “Salina Jameson’s place borders the northeast end of our valley.”
The thought of Chance avoiding the seductive widow brought a smile to her lips. “Do you really own the whole valley?”
&nbs
p; “Damn near. Jameson’s land meshes with ours on the northeast side through a maze of canyons. They feed into some lowland meadows before opening up to the plains. I’m hoping our missing stock is tucked into those canyons and not lost in that ocean of wide-open range.”
Cora wrapped a dishtowel around the skillet handle and carried the scrambled eggs to the table. “Salina Jameson is stealing horses from you?”
“The crew of the Lazy J, to be sure. We didn’t raise a stink when it was just a few mavericks here and there. Since old man Jameson died, rustling has become a real problem with horses and lately our steers. It makes no sense. We’re not cattlemen. We don’t keep a large herd, just enough for food and training the horses. Six months back we took to using barb wire, which caused a commotion all over the countryside. Not that it made much difference with the Lazy J, them being so skilled with wire cutters and all.”
“Can’t you just go take your stock back?”
“If we could find ’em. Those canyons have more twists and turns than a labyrinth. Right now we can’t spare the time or the manpower. But once we fill the military’s spring contract, we’ll be looking to round up those mavericks for the rest of our outfitters.”
“Aren’t there sheriffs or marshals you could call upon to help enforce the law?”
“Not unless there’s a body count.”
Cora’s eyes popped wide as she sat across from him. “Body count?”
“Out here, you either have the muscle to protect what’s yours or you hire someone who does. For now, the rowdy bunch on the Lazy J is a serious annoyance. They’re working their way to becoming a true hazard. One more stunt like stealing our water or jumping my men and they’ll be finding themselves on the receiving end of our marshal law. That’s a fact.”
The glittering clarity in Tucker’s green eyes didn’t leave Cora with any doubt about his ability to protect what was his.
Garret walked into the kitchen with his jacket tucked under his arm. “Good morning, Miss Cora. You sure look pretty today.”
“Thank you,” she said, his compliment taking her by surprise, yet it was Garret’s cheeks that flushed as he looked away, the bright tinge topping his ears.
