Читать книгу Cowboy At Arms - Carla Cassidy - Страница 8
ОглавлениеDusty stood in front of the mirror above the sink in his tiny bathroom and gazed at his reflection. Hair neatly combed...check. Light blue dress shirt buttoned and tucked into his jeans...check.
He grabbed a bottle of spicy cologne and splashed it on both sides of his neck and beneath his jaw and then left the bathroom. He was ready ridiculously early. It was only a few minutes before nine.
Nerves bounced around in the pit of his stomach. He’d drive himself crazy if he cooled his heels alone in the small bunk room he called home.
He stepped out the door and gazed down the length of the motel-like units where the cowboys who worked on the Holiday ranch lived. None of the other men were anywhere in sight.
He began the walk around to the back of the building where the cowboy dining room and a recreation area were located. Most of the men would be in town on a Saturday night, but there were always a few who preferred hanging out together in the rec room.
“Whoa, we could smell you coming from a mile away,” Adam Benson, the ranch foreman, exclaimed as he waved a hand in front of his nose when Dusty walked in.
“And he’s nice and cleaned up, too,” Tony Nakni, another ranch hand, added. “Hot date?”
“I don’t know how hot it’s going to be, but I’m meeting Trisha at the Watering Hole after she gets off work at the café,” Dusty said and sank down on a chair next to Tony.
Tony clapped him on the back. “So, you finally got up the nerve to ask her out.”
“Yeah, and even more surprising is that she actually agreed to meet with me.” Nerves once again kicked up in the pit of Dusty’s stomach.
“Well, it’s about time,” Adam replied. “You’ve been half-crazy about her forever.”
“You’re one to talk. Everyone knows you have a thing for Cassie. When are you going to ask her out on an official date?” Dusty asked.
Cassie Peterson had inherited the ranch from her aunt Cass, the woman who had taken in a bunch of dysfunctional, lost young boys and turned them into not just cowboys, but also strong and capable men.
There had been a lot of speculation as to whether the pretty blonde would stay and work the ranch or sell it and return to New York City, where she had a store that sold her original oil paintings, among other things.
The crime scene that had been discovered on the property had temporarily halted any plans she might have entertained of selling the ranch, but none of them knew what Cassie’s next move might be now that the skeletons had been removed.
“Yeah, maybe if you cozied up to her a little bit more then you could convince her to stick around here,” Tony said to Adam.
“You all know that the last thing I want is for her to sell out and leave us all not only jobless but homeless and separated, as well,” Adam replied.
They were all silent for a long moment. With the help of social worker Francine Rogers, Cass Holiday had taken in a dozen runaway boys to work her ranch. As they’d grown and matured, they had formed a family unit and Dusty had considered each one of the other men a brother.
As the others continued to speculate on Cassie’s future plans for the ranch, Dusty was far more concerned about his own imminent future and his date with Trisha.
He’d dated several women in town over the past couple of years, but he’d never made a real connection with any of them. Sometimes he wondered in the darkness of the night if his childhood had made it impossible for him to ever trust...to ever really love anyone.
He remained talking with the other men until nine thirty and then stood. “It’s time for me to head out,” he said.
“Good luck,” Tony said. “I hope you both have a great time.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Adam added.
Dusty laughed. “I wouldn’t think of it.”
He left the building and headed for the large shed where the men parked their personal vehicles and stored other big ranch equipment.
In the brilliant moonlight, the blue tent that covered the crime scene rose up like an alien entity. He grimaced as he thought of the skeletons. They had been found under the floorboards of an old shed the men had taken down after the spring storm that had killed Cass.
The discovery had been shocking, and even more shocking was that Chief of Police Dillon Bowie suspected it was possible that one of the men working the ranch might be responsible for the seven murdered young men.
Dusty would never believe that one of the men he considered his brothers was responsible for the murders that had occurred around the time the twelve young men had first begun working for Cass.
She had been a good judge of character and surely never would have kept anyone around who showed any kind of violent tendencies, somebody who was capable of slamming a meat cleaver or an ax into the skull of another human being.
If there was a killer in Bitterroot, then the odds were much better that he worked on the Humes ranch. Raymond Humes liked his ranch hands mean and on the edge, and many of them had been around for years or had been born and raised here.
As Dusty drove the short distance from the ranch into town, all thoughts of the murders fled his mind as he once again thought about the night to come with Trisha.
He had no idea if she was a potential long-term match for him or not. All he knew for sure was that he was attracted to her. For months she had invaded his thoughts and dreams. There was also a growing well of loneliness deep inside him.
Maybe his loneliness was more apparent lately because three of his fellow cowboys had found their love matches in the last couple of months. They had been a dozen single men working and living together, and now they were only nine. Dusty wanted to find the same kind of happiness that they had all found.
The Watering Hole was the only official bar in town. It was housed in a large wooden building and on a Saturday night the parking lot was nearly full.
He wished that there had been someplace to meet that was a little quieter, but this was basically the only game in town at this time of the night other than the café where Trisha worked.
Hopefully, he could snag a table away from the dance floor, where the music would be softer and they could actually carry on some kind of a meaningful conversation without too much difficulty.
He found an empty parking space and pulled in. The dog days of August were upon them. The stifling night air slapped him in the face as he hurried from his pickup toward the cooler air that would greet him inside the bar.
The place was definitely jumping. Dozens of couples moved across the dance floor to the beat of the jukebox playing a rousing country western song. Bottles and glasses clinked as drinks were poured and delivered by the waitresses, and laughter rang out from all four corners of the huge room.
Dusty waved to Brody Booth, Sawyer Quincy and Jerrod Steen, all fellow cowboys from the Holiday ranch. They sat together at a table near the back room, where there were two pool tables and a dartboard.
Dusty smiled inwardly. It was a good thing Brody and Jerrod were with Sawyer. The copper-haired cowboy was a lightweight when it came to drinking. It didn’t take much beer for him to have to be carried out of the place.
Dusty wove his way through the crowd and spied an empty two-top table not far from where the three men sat. At least the jukebox wasn’t quite as loud here, although the noisy click of pool balls and triumphant shouts drifted out of the back room.
He sat and once again tamped down the nerves that kicked in the pit of his stomach. He had never been so nervous before meeting or picking up any woman for a date.
It was just drinks, he reminded himself. If they weren’t into each other by the end of the night, they would each go their own separate ways and there would be no harm and no foul.
“Hey, Dusty.” Janis Little, one of the waitresses, greeted him with a friendly smile. “What can I get for you?”
Dusty looked at his watch. It was just ten minutes after ten. Trisha should be arriving within the next fifteen minutes or so. “I’ll have a beer,” he said. “But I’m waiting for Trisha Cahill to join me in the next few minutes.”
Janis raised one of her thin brown eyebrows. “Ah, and here I thought your heart belonged only to me.”
He grinned at the attractive woman. “You know I have to keep up my appearances as a womanizing cowboy who secretly loves and trusts only my horse.”
She laughed. “I’ll be back with your beer in a jiffy.”
He watched her as she worked her way toward the long, polished bar on the opposite side of the room. Janis was pretty and single, but he’d never considered asking her out. She’d never created the edge of excitement in him that Trisha did.
Janis delivered his beer and he’d only taken two sips of it when Trisha walked through the front door. He immediately jumped to his feet and waved to her.
She smiled and waved back. He remained standing as she went around the tables and people to approach him. His heart quickened as she drew nearer. She looked ridiculously hot. Her pale blond hair was loose and flowed to her shoulders in soft waves. Her tight jeans showcased her long, slim legs and the blue blouse skimmed her full breasts and tapered in at her slender waist.
“Trisha, I’m so glad you could make it,” he said when she finally reached the table.
“Me, too.” Only after she sat at the table did Dusty return to his chair opposite of her.
Was she as nervous as he was? She didn’t appear to be. She looked cool and collected. “What can I get for you?” he asked and motioned to Janis.
“I really don’t drink too often, but a beer sounds wonderful. It’s so hot outside.”
“There’s nothing better than a cold beer on a hot summer night,” he replied.
“We’ll be wishing for these hot nights when the snow starts to fly.”
Janis arrived and took the drink order, and once it had been delivered the conversation turned to Trisha’s night working at the café. “Saturday nights are always the worst,” she said. “I swear nobody in the entire town cooks on Saturday nights.” She gave him a rueful grin. “Oh, wait, didn’t I say that to you last night about Friday nights?”
“I believe you did. But that’s small-town living. Weekend meals aren’t just about the food, but also about community ties and, of course, the gossip,” he replied dryly.
She laughed, a pleasant, musical sound. “That’s for sure,” she agreed. “I now know more personal information about some of the people in this town than I ever wanted to know.” She sobered slightly. “And despite how good the gossip mill is and that you and I have talked fairly regularly at the café, I really don’t know that much about you. Did you grow up here in Bitterroot?”
“No, I’m a transplant. I grew up in Oklahoma City. What about you? Where are you from originally?” The last thing he wanted to talk about was himself and his past.
“I’m from back east,” she replied and took a drink of her beer.
“Then how did you wind up here in Bitterroot?” he asked curiously. He was aware that her answer had definitely been vague. Back east could include a million different places when you lived in Oklahoma.
She gazed down into her glass and then looked at him once again. The blue of her eyes was slightly darker than a moment before.
“When I was three months pregnant, my boyfriend, the father of my unborn child, was killed in a terrible motorcycle accident. When my son was born, I decided that I needed a fresh start, someplace new. So, I packed up my bags and my baby and took off.”
“Wow, that was incredibly brave of you,” he replied.
She smiled and picked up her glass once again. “I don’t know if it was incredibly brave or completely foolish, but at the time I knew it was definitely what I needed to do. I spent the next six months or so drifting from town to town, and finally we wound up here in Bitterroot. So far it’s been a good fit.”
She took another drink of her beer and when she set her glass back on the table, Dusty noticed that her hand trembled slightly and her gaze went to some point just over his head.
Interesting, he mused inwardly. Were her hands simply trembling from the nerves of a first date? Or was it something more?
Rather than being put off, he was more intrigued by her than ever. He certainly didn’t know her well at this point, but he had the distinct impression that Trisha Cahill just might have a barn full of secrets.
* * *
Trisha fought against the ghosts from her past and the fact that she was telling lies. They left a bad taste in her mouth. She didn’t want to lie, but she had to. It was far too early to bare her soul to Dusty. Besides, she’d never hope to have a normal life if she told the truth and chased anyone who might be interested in her away.
“I know you have a young son. Tell me about him,” Dusty said.
Instantly the nerves that had danced inside her as she’d talked briefly about how she’d come to be here in Bitterroot calmed. “Cooper is a little over three years old and he’s the absolute love of my life. He adores blueberry pancakes and playing cowboys and old John Wayne movies.”
Dusty laughed and raised a blond eyebrow. “Really? Old John Wayne movies?”
She nodded and grinned. “The motel doesn’t get many television channels, but one of them plays old Westerns, and Cooper has already decided he’s going to be the cowboy who arrests all of the bad guys and saves the town just like the Duke.”
“He sounds pretty special.”
“Oh, he is...of course I might be slightly prejudiced.”
“Mothers are supposed to be prejudiced when it comes to their children,” he replied firmly. “What about other family?”
“None,” she replied. “I’m an only child, and my father passed away when I was in high school and my mother died when I was pregnant with Cooper.” She ignored the pang of guilt...the pain of enormous grief that shot off in her stomach and filled her heart.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said with genuine empathy shining from his gorgeous eyes. “That’s something we have in common. I don’t have any family, either.”
For the next hour or so the conversation flowed comfortably between them. With each minute that passed she found herself drawn to him more and more.
Not only did she find him crazy handsome and sexy, but he was also easy to talk to and had a wonderful sense of humor. Thankfully she managed to steer the conversation away from her and focused on him and his work at the Holiday ranch.
He talked about his fellow cowboys and regaled her with stories about them that brought laughter to her lips again and again. It felt good not just to have something to laugh about but also to see the warmth in his eyes as he gazed at her, to feel the tingling excitement of her incredible attraction to him.
It was just a little after eleven thirty when he asked her if she wanted to take a whirl out on the dance floor. The jukebox had begun to play a slow song and she suddenly wanted to know what it would feel like to have his big, strong arms around her. It had been so long since she’d been held by anyone.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Although I have to warn you that it’s been years since I’ve danced with anyone, so I’m sure I’m pretty rusty.”
“I’ll take rusty anytime,” he said with a charming smile and jumped up from his chair. She also stood and he took her by the hand and led her toward the edge of the dance floor, where other couples clung together and danced to the music.
With one hand at her waist and the other one holding her hand, he pulled her to within an inch or so of his body and they began to move to the slow beat.
His shoulder was big and strong beneath her hand and the clean male scent of him coupled with a spicy cologne threatened to dizzy her senses. He led with confidence and moved with an unexpected grace for a cowboy.
This short night had only confirmed what she had suspected for months...that she was ridiculously drawn to Dusty Crawford. It wasn’t just because she could drown in the depths of his beautiful blue eyes or because the flash of his dimples warmed her deep inside. It wasn’t that he had a sexy taut butt and shoulders that appeared wide enough to carry any burden.
She was also drawn to the man she sensed he was beneath his handsome outer wrapping. There was a warmth to him, and an aura of a good man with a big heart.
She was vaguely disappointed when the music finally ended because she knew it was time for her to call an end to the night and head back to the motel. She’d told Juanita that she’d be home by midnight, and no matter how much she was enjoying herself she wouldn’t take advantage of the situation by being late.
They walked back to the table, but she didn’t return to her chair. She picked up her purse from the floor beneath the table. “I’m sorry, Dusty, but I really need to get going,” she said.
A flash of disappointment shone from his eyes. It was there only a moment and then gone. “I’m sorry, too, but I understand. Just let me pay for the tab and I’ll follow you home.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary,” she protested.
He waved to Janis. “But it is necessary,” he replied. “A real gentleman always sees a lady home safely.”
A wealth of unexpected emotion welled up inside her. It had been a very long time since any man had wanted to see her safely anywhere.
He paid for their drinks and then the two of them left the bar and stepped out into the warmth of the night. “I’ll be right behind you,” he said when they reached her car. “We can say our final good-nights at your door.”
Minutes later she glanced in her rearview mirror and was oddly comforted by the lights of his bright red pickup truck just behind her.
The night had been far too short. Would he ask her out again? Did he even want to spend more time with her? She was surprised by how much she wanted him to.
Would he kiss her? A fluttering shot off in the pit of her stomach. Goodness, she felt like a silly schoolgirl with her very first crush.
She parked her car in front of her motel unit and Dusty pulled his truck up just behind her car. Before she had shut off her engine he was at her door.
She turned off her car and unfastened her seat belt as he opened the door for her. He stepped aside to allow her to get out.
“Trisha, I really enjoyed spending time with you tonight.” The neon lights from the motel sign flickered red and yellow on his strong, handsome features.
“I enjoyed it, too,” she replied. Her heart beat a little faster as he took a step closer to her.
“I’d like to spend more time with you. Does your son like to fish?”
She looked at him in surprise. “He’s never been fishing before, but I’m sure he’d love it.”
“Then what if we plan a day of the two of you coming out to the ranch? We can do a little fishing in the pond and maybe have a picnic?”
Her head told her it was far too soon to introduce Cooper to Dusty, and yet as she thought of her son enjoying a day outside and learning how to fish, she couldn’t resist the invitation. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d just met Dusty. She tamped down any reservations she might have. “That sounds like fun.”
He took another step toward her. “When is your next day off?”
“Tomorrow.” Once again the fluttering was back in her stomach.
“Then can we plan it for around three tomorrow afternoon? I can pick the two of you up here and I’ll arrange it all so you don’t have to do a thing.”
“That would be wonderful,” she replied.
His eyes glittered with pleasure. “Then it’s a date. And now, the most important question of the evening. Can I kiss you good-night?”
She was surprised that he’d asked her and even more surprised by just how badly she wanted him to kiss her. “Yes, I’d like that.”
She barely got the words out of her mouth before he took her into his arms. Unlike when they had danced, this time there was no space between them. She was acutely conscious of his firm, muscled body against hers as he lowered his head to capture her lips with his.
Soft and warm, he moved his mouth against hers. Fire leaped into her veins and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She parted her lips to allow him to deepen the kiss and he did, his tongue swirling with hers.
What had begun as a simple, soft first kiss quickly flared into something hotter, something far more intense than she had initially anticipated.
Reluctantly, she pulled her arms from around his neck and broke the kiss. He immediately dropped his arms to his sides and stepped back from her. “Whew,” he said with a grin.
She gave a breathy laugh. “I second that. And now I really should get inside.” She had to escape before she lost her head and threw herself into his arms once again for another kiss...and another.
They had only taken a couple of steps toward her motel room door when she spied something odd. Directly in front of her door on the ground was a bright yellow coffee mug with a little bouquet of wildflowers spilling out of the top.
A wail began in the center of her brain and she froze, unable to think, unable to even move as a distant but familiar terror rocketed through her.
“What’s this?” Dusty’s voice slowly penetrated into her head. She stared wordlessly as he bent down and picked up the mug. “It looks like there’s a note, too.” He retrieved a white piece of paper that had been tucked beneath the mug.
He held the paper out to her. With trembling fingers she took it from him. Her mouth was dry with fear as she opened it. In the light from the blinking neon motel sign and the bright moon overhead, the words written in red marker practically leaped off the page: “YOU BELONG TO ME.”
Horror clutched her throat, momentarily closing it off so that she could scarcely draw a breath of air. No, her mind screamed. No, please.
Is it safe? It isn’t. Dear God, it isn’t safe at all.
“I’ve got to go. I need to pack up and leave town. We need to get out of here.” The words fell from her lips as she continued to stare at Dusty.
“Whoa.” He set the mug down on the ground next to him and reached out and grabbed her by her shoulders. “Trisha, slow down. I think maybe you’re overreacting. I’m the one who should be worried here. It appears that you have a secret admirer and I have some competition.”
A secret admirer?
Was that all that it was?
She tried to staunch the sheer terror that had momentarily clutched at her very soul. Was she really overreacting? She continued to stare at Dusty and then looked down at the mug on the ground next to her.
“Trisha, are you all right?” Dusty asked with concern.
A touch of embarrassment swept over her and she gazed up at him once again. “I’m fine. I...I just don’t like surprises.”
“This surprise just makes me wish I’d thought to bring you a dozen roses,” he said dryly. He dropped his hands from her shoulders.
She drew in a deep, steadying breath. “Dusty, I don’t need roses, or flowers in a coffee mug from an unknown person.”
“Then we’re still on for our fishing date tomorrow?”
“Of course we’re still on,” she replied. “Would you do me a favor?” She crumpled up the note into a tight ball and shoved it into his hand. “Would you throw this and the mug into the Dumpster for me?”
“Are you sure? The flowers are kind of pretty.”
“I’m positive. I don’t want them. Like I said, I don’t like surprises.”
“Then it would be my pleasure.” He reached down and picked up the mug and then frowned at her with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” All she wanted to do now was get into the motel room.
“Then I’ll just say good-night, Trisha.”
She murmured a good-night and then escaped into her room. She held it together as she told Juanita good-night. She even managed to remain somewhat calm as she went into the bathroom and changed into her nightshirt.
It was only then that the fear returned and once again sizzled inside her. She walked to the window and moved the heavy gold curtain aside just enough that she could peek outside.
Who on earth had left the note and the flowers for her? Was there somebody out there watching her right now? The parking lot appeared empty of any human presence, but there were so many places to hide.
The large trash Dumpster at the back of the parking lot now looked like a perfect place for somebody to conceal himself from her view. The line of mature trees and thick bushes appeared equally malevolent in the darkness of the night.
A secret admirer? Who could it be?
She let the curtain fall back into place and checked the door, making sure that both the dead bolt and the security chain were in place.
She finally slid into the king-size bed next to her sleeping son. She stared up at the dark ceiling, her thoughts racing a hundred miles a minute.
Was it safe? There had never been any notes or flowers before. Were they really just the result of some lonesome cowboy or some man in town who had developed a crush on her? Were they from a harmless secret admirer, as Dusty had suggested?
Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, she tried to still the frantic race of her heart. She didn’t want to pack up her things and run again. She loved living in Bitterroot and tonight with Dusty had been all kinds of wonderful.
Did she take the chance and stay here in town and see what happened next? Was this nothing to be afraid of, or had the evil from her past finally caught up with her?
