He pulled his hand away, with a smile on his face that baffled her. He looked both sad and intrigued, like she’d just given him a difficult problem to solve. Well, she wasn’t his algebra homework.
“Can you eat with that injury?” she asked before telling him what she’d brought for dinner.
“Maybe a little.” He watched her too closely and she needed to get out of there. So she left for the soup she’d brought him.
When she brought it back, and he saw what it was, he asked, “Are you going to feed me?”
That sincere voice and innocent eyes almost had her. “I don’t think so.”
She did help him up and adjusted his pillows for him. He still watched her, and those intense eyes of his were getting to her. The mood struck her then: the dim lighting, his shirtless body, his bedroom.
“I should let you rest.” She stepped back.
“I’ll be getting plenty of rest this week. Stay.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Goodnight.” She managed not to run on her way out.
* * * *
She’d show him! That was her first thought when her eyes opened in the morning. Before the sun rose, she showered, ate breakfast, and bundled up in a sweater and raincoat.
Outside, a soft, soaking rain fell. Brent would classify it as a drizzle, but nothing would stop her from taking care of things today and the next few days while he recovered.
She hurried to meet Dale and Ivan by the stables. “So what’s on for today?” She didn’t react to their unbelieving looks.
Dale shrugged. “Ready to saddle up?”
In the tact room, she gathered up everything Brent had, but it took her a couple of trips to carry it all . Speckle bent an ear at her.
“I know what I’m doing,” she told Speckle. She did, but she had Dale check it before she mounted. It’d be rather embarrassing, and dangerous, if it weren’t done right. She also didn’t want to hurt the horse.
She worked with Speckle until noon, when she wanted to take lunch to Brent. On the walk back to her house, her body let her know she’d need some time to get used to the saddle. But it was worth it, wasn’t it? The gait of the horse, the breeze blowing in her hair, and the sense of freedom pulled her in.
She’d stolen Brent’s crock-pot the day before, laughing all the way home that he had one. Now it sat with a hot lunch simmering in it.
It didn’t smell too bad, she decided on the walk to his house. No one would call her a great cook, but she could make something edible.
She raised her hand to knock when she saw him through the window in his recliner. He was kicked back in front of the TV, a blanket lying on his legs. His ribs were wrapped, she guessed for support.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her eyes off his chest, covered in light hair. Nice pecs. Well toned arms, too.
She glanced at his face and noted, happily, he was eyeing the crock-pot and not her. Maybe he hadn’t noticed her appreciating his body.
Once inside, she said, “Yeah, I took it so I could cook you lunch.”
“Smells great, is it poisoned?” He was joking this time, and she was glad to see the twinkle back in his eye. Then there was another type of gleam as he took her in. His eyes met hers and she couldn’t ignore the change in them.
She turned away from his gaze and went in the kitchen to get a bowl. “Do you like chicken? It’s not five-star restaurant quality, but it works.” She spoke just to fill the silence and break the mood.
“I don’t know a man who turns down food.” His words weren’t laced with double meaning, but his tone sounded too heavy for the conversation.
Medication. Of course, he was taking something for the pain. Or maybe he’d gotten the idea he could scare her off this way. No matter what he was thinking, he’d changed from dislike to flirtatious so quickly that it couldn’t be anything but show.
“Here you go.” She brought him a tray, but managed to avoid eye contact as she placed everything for him. When she stood, she glanced at him, and he didn’t look happy about the emotions he saw on her face.
“You won’t join me?” he asked, but he sounded like he already knew the answer.
“There’s still a lot of work to do.” The excuse slipped right out. “I mean, there always is, even if you can help. You know that.”
He watched her go, his eyes labeling her a wimp. She had work to do, she told herself again.
Chapter Four
Two days later, Missy stood on Brent’s porch, a bag full of sandwiches in hand, preparing herself to see him. They’d all listened to him grumble about his restrictions. Today wouldn’t be any different.
The door opened, ending any buffer she’d hoped for. “Hey there.” He’d pulled on a light blue shirt, but it wasn’t buttoned.
She finally understood the pull of a man in an open shirt. He leaned into the doorframe while she stood there, trying to remember why she’d come. When she looked back at his face, he was grinning at her.
“I brought you sandwiches.” She held up the bag.
“I can make my own food now, you know. I think you just like to see me . . . half naked.”
“No.” She shrugged. “Just being neighborly.” Since coming to the ranch, she hadn’t been able to resist all the little phrases they used. Nodding toward the inside, he swung open the door and led the way into the kitchen.
“So stay and eat with me. To be neighborly.” He pulled out two chairs instead of waiting for an answer.
She pulled sandwiches out and said, “I took back the rental this morning.”
“About time.”
“I would have kept it, but you keep thinking I’m going to run off.”
“Women tend to.” He took a hefty bite of his lunch and raised an eyebrow at her.
Women tend to? Not all women, she wanted to argue, but apparently some woman had run off on him.
She didn’t want to fight with him today, plus she had a mouth full of food. A radio on the counter played music from a country station. He tapped his foot while staring out the window, lost in the music.
She wanted his shirt buttoned but could only imagine the teasing she’d endure if she asked him. Instead she pretended not to notice his well-defined muscles. Besides, she could stare at his blue eyes or his lips while he chewed.
“So, Brent, do you actually cook in your crock pot?” She tried her best to ask with a straight face.
“I don’t have it just to look at.”
“You do?” What if he could cook, really cook, and he’d been choking down her food? Meeting his gaze, she shook her head at him in amusement. Somehow the man could chew and grin, and look sexy all at the same time. He let the opportunity to tease her pass, except for the cocky grin.
“I talked to Dale about doing some light work.” He changed the subject. “Seems the three of you are pretty determined to keep me out of things.”
“For your own good,” she reminded. He had a different set to his face than she was used to seeing. Anger? An unpleasant flutter churned her stomach. Why would she care if he were mad at her?
“I see how it is,” Brent said.
His words repeated in her head, but in another man’s voice. Brent’s joking tone changed into ice-cold rage. She jumped up, surprised at the vivid memory and the intense fear that came with it. For a terrifying second, she was in her old office.
“Missy?” Brent materialized in front of her, his voice soft and soothing. “What did I say?”
His eyes held confusion as he reached out and gently took her arm. She pulled free and stepped back.
“Sorry.” She grabbed her jacket and hurried out. There were reasons why she couldn’t trust a man, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t hide from every male on the planet, but that didn’t mean she should let her guard down, either.
Shaking the memory out of her head, she picked up her pace and headed toward the stables though she didn’t have a plan.
When she walked by the pasture, Dancer
trotted up to the fence and whinnied at her.
“Well, hey.” She walked over, holding her hand out and talking to him. His size had scared her before, but he smelled her hand. “I know I’m not Ben, but I’d like to be friends.”
As if agreeing, Dancer bobbed his head before turning and putting on a show for her. Running and bucking, he whipped around the pasture in circles. Then he slowed his pace and returned to the fence.
“I see how you earned your name.” He was a thing of beauty, she couldn’t deny that, but she was afraid of trusting him enough to ride him. Sometime, though, someone needed to. And it didn’t seem like Brent planned on it.
* * * *
“Hey, Missy!”
She jumped a foot off the ground at Brent’s yell. He stood on his porch, waving at her.
What could he want? Sore from working so hard, she didn’t think she could go head to head with him. He yelled again. With a sigh, she started up his walk and then the porch.
“Looking tired, city girl. How about a good home-cooked meal?”
Yeah, he’d make a nice meal, for the eyes anyway. She’d seen him in shirts and jeans, but now he wore a green T-shirt, nice and snug to show off those muscles, and sweats. They hung low on his hips and looked just too easy to pull off.
“I meant actual food, sweetie.” He crossed his arms land leaned against the house. “But I can change my plans.”
Did he just call her sweetie? Looking up, she saw his lips lifted more on one side, completing his come-hither look.
Pour it on, cowboy. “I’m too hungry to think like that.”
Giving her a sorrowful shake of his head, he reached over and opened the front door for her to go inside. Warm air swelled out, carrying the smell of bread. She had to stop inside and breathe it in. Right behind her, he shut the door before he laughed at the incredulous look she gave him.
“Come sit down, it’s ready.”
She washed her hands instead, and could only hope she didn’t look like she’d spent the day working her butt off. Too bad she had. Maybe the smell of sweat turned him on.
“Hope you like steak,” he said.
“Sure.” No, she didn’t, and she hadn’t eaten it in years.
“I can tell you don’t, but you haven’t tried mine yet.” He set a plate in front of her. Steak, mashed potatoes, and a vegetable mix. He brought over a loaf of quick bread and cut a slice for both of them.
Feeling like a jerk for teasing him before, she said, “Brent, this is really nice.”
He poured wine in their glasses and sat down, his eyes gleaming. “Try the steak.”
She cut a piece and planned to lie if it wasn’t the best steak she ever had. But the flavor hit her and her eyes went wide.
His sexy grin flashed. “Told you.”
She knew she looked sheepish, but didn’t care. She savored several bites before trying the potatoes.
Brent sliced the bread and buttered a piece for both of them. “Try this, then you’ll know you owe me.”
The steak blew her away, but the bread did her in. “There’s no way you made this.”
“Why not?” He buttered another piece for himself. This guy could do anything and look sexy. While they ate, she tried to keep from staring at his mouth, his hands. Her only consolation was he looked at her as much as she eyed him. Course, he’d been doing that since they met.
He finished off his dinner and asked, “So what do you really think of working here?”
She paused with her hand halfway to her mouth with another bite of bread. “Oh, so you’re doing this to get some info out of me?”
“Just being neighborly is all.” He didn’t let his smile fade. Oh, she’d been an idiot. She drank the last of her wine before she answered.
“I’m sore all over,” she said. Instantly she wanted to slap herself for being so honest, and saying something like that to him.
“I can help with that.”
I bet you could. She looked down at his hands, so nice and big. And strong. He’d caught her looking again. He stood, making her nervous, and moved behind her chair, even while she shook her head in horror. She could count the few times they’d touched so far, and each time sent her body in agony. Or paradise. She couldn’t tell.
“Brent . . .”
“Relax.” His hands slid around her arms, holding her the way he had the day he taught her to ride a horse. She held her breath, held herself still.
She bit into her lip and closed her eyes. Don’t moan! His hands moved up to her shoulders, applying light pressure, kneading. He worked his way in from her shoulders to the base of her neck and gradually increased the pressure. Unable to fight, she leaned her head forward.
“You’re . . . good at this.”
His thumbs ran up her neck and down to her back again. She’d been right about his big hands. They could do magic. It’d been so long since someone had touched her like this, taking care of her.
His warm hands moved under the collar of her shirt. Heat spiked up in her, taking away her willpower. She gave in, surrendered, and whimpered.
Oh, no!
“That good, huh?”
His voice flowed over her like honey. She could cry. Her mind wouldn’t work except to think, don’t ever stop.
He rubbed and kneaded until her head fell back. His hands were affecting other parts of her body, places where he wasn’t actually touching. What if he could tell?
As if he sensed he was taking her too far, he squeezed her neck once more, then she heard him sit in the chair next to her.
She was sure she wouldn’t be able to look at him, but when she opened her eyes, he looked soft, tender. Now, more than ever, she wanted his hands on the rest of her.
If her voice worked, she’d thank him, but she couldn’t do anything but stare at him.
“Do you think you can manage to walk home?” He stood and traced the outside of his hand down her face. “Or I could carry you.”
Carry her? No way. Stumbling, she got to her feet and shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.”
He followed her to the door, where she spun around. Her mind had cleared. “The mess. I should help you clean.”
He just shook his head. “I’ll walk you home. You look tired.”
What did he mean by that? She wouldn’t let him in, no matter how good his hands had felt. Her neck and shoulders still felt warm and loose.
“Dinner was great,” she conceded.
Stopping by the front closet, they wrapped up before he opened the door. “So no more teasing about the banjo or crock pot?”
She burst out laughing. “Oh, no. I’ve got a buzz.”
He shut the door behind her. “From one glass of wine?”
One glass? He was right, so why did she feel so light and carefree? Once they were down the steps, he walked next to her and put his arm across her shoulders. She shivered from the cold and leaned into him.
“I’m sorry I teased you before,” she said. He smelled so good, she wanted to turn her face into his chest and take a deep breath. They were quiet on the walk. She wasn’t sure why he was quiet, but she felt so relaxed, she couldn’t think.
He walked her up to the door and opened it for her. She searched for a way to tell him she wasn’t ready to invite him in. While she thought about it, his other arm slid around her.
Her body willingly relaxed in his arms, but her mind screamed. What was she doing?
He kissed the top of her head and stepped back. She met his gaze and then wished she hadn’t.
“You’re something else, Missy.”
She managed a confused expression.
“You can trust me. Promise.” He turned and went down the steps, waving on his way back on the road.
You can trust me. How could he promise that? And how did he even know she was afraid to?
* * * *
The next morning, Brent awoke and moved, turning onto his side in bed before jolting up. His side felt great! He was back in the game. He didn’t hear
rain coming down outside, so maybe it’d be clear today.
Even though he’d been back on his feet the last few days, Dale and Ivan hadn’t allowed him to help with anything. He didn’t pull rank and tell them it was his ranch, because he knew they meant well. Doctor’s orders and all. But, darn it, it’d been hard to see Missy when he couldn’t work.
He’d known if he allowed himself to get involved with her, she’d break his heart. The thought still tormented him, but now he knew he wouldn’t fight it. If she was going to be here, there was only one way to do it. If he didn’t get her in his bed soon, he’d never get his work done.
With that decision made, he threw back the covers, his mission clear in his head.
He’d been using warm showers to help his injured muscles relax. After another one, he didn’t bother with coffee or breakfast in his haste to get outside. In the pasture, he spotted Missy and Dale in the soup-like fog. He’d almost reached them before they heard him coming.
“Hi.” Missy watched the way he walked, just like a worried mother would. “How’s the side?”
“Great. I don’t think I can take another day of resting.” He waved as Dale started off. Her coat, he saw now, wasn’t red but burgundy. He wouldn’t normally notice a thing like that, but the color went perfectly with her skin tone. “I appreciate the way you’ve helped out around here.”
“That’s why I’m here.” She nudged his arm. “Remember?”
“You’ve certainly proved yourself.”
She gave him her beautiful smile, making him notice even more her full, deep red lips. Her hair hung loose and wild, framing her face in a way that made her cheekbones gracefully noticeable.
“Really? You think I’m ranch material now?”
“You can pull your own, that’s all I’m saying.” He tried to hide his grin, but couldn’t help it anymore. And he didn’t care. She’d done more than prove herself.
She glanced up and caught him watching her. Her smile wavered before she looked away. Skittish as a colt, but he’d win her over.
A Cowboy For Christmas Page 5
