Читать книгу The Rancher's Seduction - Catherine Mann - Страница 11

Three

Parked on the sofa in front of the fireplace, Marshall glanced at the window to check for Tally’s sedan—for what seemed like the tenth time. What was keeping her?

He should have been able to lose himself in work today with his uncle. Conrad had been accommodating in coming out to the ranch so Marshall didn’t have to deal with the seat belt around his broken arm.

Flames crackled in the river-stone fireplace, a blaze he’d started in anticipation of Tally’s return. Where was she? Concern picked away at him even as he tried to lose himself in work.

The day had already begun to wane, the antlered chandelier providing a dusky yellow light as he and Uncle Conrad continued talking through options for the company’s newly formed charitable foundation. He’d signed on to the board, offering his accounting skills. He’d always been all about the quiet of crunching numbers, riding, hiking, the logic of counting steps and weighing odds.

Leaning back into the burgundy sofa, he rubbed his eyes. For the past several hours, he’d been staring at figures and documents on his tablet. Relentless strategizing, feeling the weight of the company’s new image on his shoulders.

Of course, not all his thoughts lingered on the spreadsheets. Somehow even when Tally wasn’t here, she managed to permeate the space with her personality. Even now, he found himself looking around his living room, his gaze sweeping up to the open-tiered second level—a reading nook complete with panoramic views, his place to unwind with a good book.

Had it really been as dusty in places as Tally suggested? The thought of his new, fiery employee also served as a distraction he could ill afford, especially now with his sobriety tougher to hold on to because of increased stress in his life.

Tapping the phone on his leg, he glanced at the security feed, since looking out his front window a dozen times now wasn’t gaining him any traction. Still no sign of her.

He held back a sigh that would have caught his uncle’s attention. To many, Conrad seemed like a happy-go-lucky sort, always rolling out the charm. But he was more than that. He was the kind of person always there in a time of need. He’d been more than an uncle. He’d been a second father to the Steele children.

Especially after the plane crash.

The family had been stunned to its foundation by the accident that claimed the lives of Marshall’s mother—Mary—and his sister Breanna. He, his father and his remaining siblings had retreated into a world of grief. Uncle Conrad, their father’s brother, hadn’t been a part of building the Steele oil business. He was fifteen years younger than Jack, and had been brought into the company after finishing grad school with an engineering degree. He’d been a part of the North Dakota expansion. The Steeles had started in Alaska and moved toward the Dakotas, and the Mikkelsons had grown in the reverse direction, each trying to push out the other. Looking back, Marshall was struck by the fact that his role in the family and in the business couldn’t have been as easy as Conrad made it look. Perhaps they’d taken advantage of the fact he was a bachelor.

Turning the screen off, Uncle Conrad gestured to the living room, reading glasses spinning loosely in his hand. “I don’t know where they found this new housekeeper for you, but I can already see a difference.”

“And that’s just from minimal time working before she went to the hospital to volunteer. She’s a spitfire full of energy, that’s for sure.” He looked sidelong at his uncle, face tight as he remembered the way she’d flung herself into the pool to save his dog. From across the room by the floor lamp, Nugget stretched lazily, then moved to settle beneath Marshall’s feet, head resting on his paws.

“Spitfire, huh?” He scratched his chin. “I’m sure she’ll be a great help preparing for Christmas and the charity shindig.”

Marshall grunted in response, his mind still filling with images of Tally soaking wet, every curve outlined and calling to his hands.

“Yeah, I’m on the fence about this whole bachelor auction.”

“A bachelor auction?” He pulled his thoughts away from those tempting memories of Tally in the pool, memories that must be messing with him. He couldn’t have heard his uncle right. “Please say you’re kidding about them planning to parade us around on a stage.”

“Wish I could accommodate you, but I’m afraid not. The publicity’s already in the works.”

“And you’re participating as well?” He hadn’t really given a thought to his uncle’s single status. But Conrad was fifteen years younger than his brother.

He shrugged. “The money goes to charity.”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll make a big fat donation instead.”

“You’re welcome to donate whatever you wish. But just so we’re clear, if I’m hauling my old self on that stage, so are you.” He set the tablet on a side table, careful not to move the bear statue.

“You’re far from old.”

His uncle dated widely, but commitment hadn’t worked out well for him. One engagement had been broken off just shy of the altar. And Conrad’s brief marriage had ended not long after his wedding on a glacier.

“Well, thanks for the sweet talk, nephew, but you’re not going to distract me. You’re expected to participate.”

Marshall rolled his eyes, though he still hadn’t given up on trying to get out of the bachelor auction. Tapping his phone screen again, he noticed a car coming up the driveway. Except it wasn’t Tally’s car.

On the screen, he watched as the passenger-side door opened. Red hair whipped in the wind. So it was her.

A stab of jealousy and disappointment flashed through him. He hadn’t considered that she might already have a man in her life. And that thought worried the hell out of him, because it shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t be thinking of her that way.

Then he realized he was thinking with his libido rather than his brain. Not cool. Something must have gone wrong for her to have gotten a ride with someone else. The weather led to too many traffic accidents.

Concern sent him to his feet as the front door opened.

Nugget lifted his head from his paws.

Tally took his breath away with her face pink from the cold. He lost track of how long he stared at her—and she at him—until his uncle cleared his throat and reached for the shopping bag of cleaning supplies she carried. Marshall then noticed the woman standing beside Tally. A lovely brunette, someone who might have caught his attention on another day. But right now, he only had eyes for a certain redheaded spitfire.

“My car died. I caught a ride with a friend.” She gestured to the brunette holding another bag of cleaning supplies. “This is Felicity Hunt. She’s a social worker who was up at the hospital for a case.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Hunt.” He crossed the room to take Tally’s parka. The heat of her body clung to the well-worn jacket. Her crocheted mittens hung half out of the pocket. “You could have called me. You would have rescued me from plans of a bachelor auction at the Christmas fund-raiser.”

“Bachelor auction?” Felicity echoed.

Conrad chuckled under his breath.

Tally tipped her head to the side, then said, “I handled getting home, but thank you for the offer.”

Marshall’s broken arm be damned, he needed to do something for her. “I’ll send a tow truck and have my mechanic look at it.”

Tally winced. “I don’t want to take advantage. You can deduct it from my paycheck.”

Marshall appreciated her independence, but the repair was a drop in the bucket to him. “We can discuss it later.”

Conrad stopped alongside him. “Ms. Hunt, could we offer you supper to thank you for your trouble?”

“I’m fine, thanks. My workday started early, so I should head home.”

Marshall nodded to the tall brunette. “That was kind of you to go out of your way.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not that far, but I should be going.” Felicity turned to Tally. “I’ll see you next week. Today was so busy we didn’t get to chat much, and it seems we have, um, lots to talk about.” Grinning, she jabbed her hands into her coat pockets.

Conrad grabbed his coat from the nearby elk antler coat rack, yanking on his overcoat. “I’ll see you to your car.”

Marshall looked at his uncle in surprise. Interesting.

Tally picked up both bags of cleaning supplies, bright red hair sliding forward over half of her delicate face. Backing toward the door, she took a deep breath. “I’ll get to work now.”

He usually enjoyed the solitude of his life. But he was restless and couldn’t work that off with a ride. Ah, hell, who was he fooling? He’d been waiting for her to get back all afternoon.

“You’ve been volunteering since lunch. I thought you could use a break. I pulled a meal from the freezer and placed it in the oven.”

She turned toward him, her eyebrows knit with...confusion? She assessed him a moment before speaking. “That’s thoughtful. But I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“I can take care of myself.” Frustration made him snap. Then he forced himself to relax, half grinning. “Although if you want to discuss giving me a bed bath, I’m open to the topic.”

She lifted one eyebrow, crossing her arms under her full breasts. “That’s most definitely not in my job description.”

He scrubbed his jaw with his hand, awareness searing his veins. “You’re right, and I was out of line.”

“You’re forgiven. And I’ll gladly take you up on the supper.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“I want you to know I’ll be washing an extra load of laundry to earn my keep.”

“You’re stubborn and prideful.”

“I’m doing my job. And from what I was hearing your uncle say earlier, there will be a significant amount of company coming in for the holiday event. That means you do need me to get the house ready.”

“Let’s deal with supper first.”

Having her here, living under his roof, was a major temptation when he was already on edge with wanting her. And even for a man who’d spent years of sobriety learning to resist enticement, he was feeling decidedly weak when it came to this woman.

Felicity Hunt had learned independence early on, first as the youngest child of a neglectful set of parents, then in the foster care system bounced from house to house. But she’d left all that pain behind when she’d accepted a job in Alaska fifteen years ago.

Still, even after all these years in the state called “The Last Frontier,” she found herself parking in all the wrong places for getting stuck in the snow. Like now.

Her Texas roots were tough to shake in so many ways.

Snow settled in the crooks of Marshall’s ranch mansion, coating the peaks of the roof in a thick blanket. In the glow of fading sunlight, the snow looked a bit like sand stretching on a beach. Temporarily, she felt transported to a lifetime ago. Far away from the rugged architectural aesthetics of exposed stone and wood. To Texas, a land of sunshine and buildings bearing Spanish influences.

A state where she never had to worry about her car getting stuck in an uneven patch of ice.

Smiling at Conrad Steele, she made a quick dash into her SUV, dodging the thick flakes of snow beginning to fall from the sky.

Turning the key over in the ignition, her vehicle roared to life. Buckled in, she laid her foot on the pedal. Prayed the car would overcome the ice.

No such luck. The car didn’t so much as move.

Her cheeks warmed with a flush. Conrad Steele, who had been leaning against a post, his Stetson tipped down over his face, covering his salt-and-pepper hair, began moving toward her. Slow, determined steps.

Honestly, getting stuck in snow in such a short amount of time felt like a weird special talent. Though, as she looked at Conrad Steele’s square jaw and those bright blue eyes, she wished this particular talent had manifested at literally any other moment. After her messy divorce, she was done with emotional entanglements. Her job was everything to her now.

He knocked on her window, an easy smile on his lips. “Do you need some help there?”

“I’ve been driving in snow for fifteen years. Thanks, though.”

He nodded, taking a step back. But just one, she noted. He folded his arms, a movement that seemed to accentuate his broad shoulders.

Felicity willed her car to move forward. What was it that they said about the power of thought? If you wanted something bad enough, it would happen. Apparently, her car hadn’t gotten the memo.

Rolling down her window, she locked eyes with Conrad. “Fine. Yes, I would appreciate a nudge.”

His blue eyes lit with a roguish smile. “If you’ll give me your number.”

She stifled the urge to laugh, which would just encourage him. “Aren’t you supposed to keep yourself available for some bachelor auction?”

“You’re not making this easy.”

“Somehow I think you’re a man who’s not interested in easy.” She’d meant it as a simple statement of fact, and yet innuendo hovered between them as tangible as their foggy breaths. Her background in psychology made her all too aware of the power of Freudian slips. “Now can we please nudge my vehicle free?”

He laughed, a sexy, low rumble.

God, he was tempting. From his roguish smile to those broad shoulders. His breath from his laugh fogged the air between them, luring her closer. And for a moment, she considered testing the attraction.

For a moment only.

This man had the look and confidence of a player. And she wasn’t one for games. She’d worked hard to build her life here, and she refused to let anyone unsettle that. She loved her job and hoped an opportunity would open soon for her to shuffle from the foster care system to a full-time position at the hospital.

After her divorce, she’d been determined to commit herself to her work, certain her ability to build long-term relationships had been permanently derailed due to her dysfunctional upbringing.

Her parents had struggled to make ends meet—tough to do when spending all their money on drugs and alcohol. Twice she’d gone into the foster care system when teachers had expressed concerns, only to be returned to the home where she slept under her bed.

However, when her father left her in the hot car to bet on dog races, the cops had found her, and that time, she hadn’t been returned to her parents. The stress of bouncing around foster homes hadn’t been easy, and in a strange, inexplicable way, she’d missed her dysfunctional family. But she’d also appreciated the regular meals, clean clothes, and lack of drug paraphernalia mixed in with her toys. Her messed-up childhood had made her too vulnerable, and she’d married a man who cared as little for her as her parents had. She hadn’t even suspected his drug use until it was too late.

She’d learned well not to trust and wouldn’t start now.

Bracing her shoulders and her resolve, she rested her hands on the steering wheel. “Thank you for the help. I should stop chitchatting and get on the road.”

She made fast work of rolling up the window before gripping the steering wheel, ready—needing—to leave. Still, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the rearview mirror to watch Conrad Steele climb in his truck. He drove forward slowly, his bumper nudging hers ever so gently.

Still, her stomach lurched far more than her vehicle for a man she’d only just met.

Loading the dishwasher, Tally couldn’t ignore how much she’d enjoyed the simple dinner with Marshall.

With my boss, she corrected herself.

None of her previous jobs had included room and board. And more often than not, she worked through lunch to finish early. So she didn’t share meals with others often, and Marshall was a surprisingly good conversationalist for someone reputed to be reticent. Perhaps people mistook his good listening skills for something more aloof.

She closed the dishwasher and couldn’t help but notice how the stainless steel door reflected him working at the kitchen table. He had spreadsheets laid out and his tablet open, his broad hands sifting through.

Why did he insist on working at the kitchen table? He had an office. She’d heard all about what a solitary man he was. Jeannie Steele had warned her that she might need to coax him out of his “cave” to eat.

Tally slid a casserole dish into the dishwasher and shut the door on the half-full load. This man defied understanding on a number of levels.

The silence between them crackled like the sparks popping in the fireplace, drawing her toward the heat.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Less comfortable silence between them might be a better thing. “What are you working on?”

“Ledgers.”

“Ah, the Steele wealth.” She winced the second she said it. Talking about money was, well, rude. Not to mention out of line since he was her employer.

“It’s actually for the riding school I run. You’re right in thinking I don’t need the cash, but I enjoy it.”

“A school for rodeo wannabes.” She started the dishwasher. “Interesting.”

“Actually, most of my clients are children. There are a few adults as well who didn’t grow up in the saddle and want to learn.”

He grew more intriguing by the moment, showing he was more than a sexy man with broad shoulders and a great butt.

“For an injured guy, you sure stay busy. Did you muck out some stalls one-handed, too?”

Keeping things light seemed the way to go with so much chemistry in the air. The way goose bumps raised on her arms every time he walked past. How the husky timbre of his voice made her heart beat faster. Her instincts said he felt the attraction, too, but there was a world of difference between thinking he reciprocated and openly acknowledging as much.

Leaving things unsaid maintained a wall she needed to continue her job. A job that offered financial security and, hopefully, some form of peace over her father’s suicide.

He slid his papers together as snow piled up outside the window at a steady clip, moonlight reflecting off the pristine white. “And there’s more to keeping this place going than riding horses.”

“I do realize that.” She spritzed the farm sink with cleaner, then sprayed water along the sides. “I didn’t mean to come off flippant. I’m sure you miss it, riding horses, the school and the rodeo circuit, too, perhaps.”

“Hmm.” He waved dismissively, sliding the spreadsheets into a binder, then powering down his tablet. “Sure I do. It’s my passion.”

That last word launched tingles through her, her breasts tight and sensitive in her bra. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry you’re stuck in a sling.”

He waved aside her sympathy. “Speaking of things we’re passionate about... Tell me why volunteering at the hospital is so important to you that you’ll use up your time off rather than relaxing like most other people would.”

That was the last thing she wanted to talk about. No one in her life knew of the baby she’d given up for adoption. There hadn’t been anyone in her life to share the grief with when it happened. And now? More than ever she wanted to move on. It was better to depend solely on herself.