Читать книгу His Only Wife - Cathy McDavid, Cathy Mcdavid - Страница 11

Gage was dirty, hungry and more tired than he could remember being in a long time. He wanted a hot shower, food—any food would do—and fourteen hours of uninterrupted sleep. In that order.

Standing at the back door of the ranch house, he indulged himself in a good, long stretch. When he finished, he treated the family dog, Biscuit, to an ear-scratching and head-patting combo. The fire hadn’t been the worst one Gage had fought by any means, but there had been a few hairy moments, thanks to Mother Nature and her unpredictable whims. In addition, they were shorthanded, forcing all the Hotshots to work double shifts. The one time he’d visited the community center and saw Aubrey was his only break in three full days. But what a break it had been.

Since then, he’d repeatedly relived those minutes they kissed, lingering in particular on the taste of her warm and giving mouth. Not to mention the exact moment she melted against him, abandoning all efforts to resist. He thought less about her sudden turnaround. It surprised him how she’d gone from searing hot one minute to icy cold the next, and he intended to focus the sum total of his mental energies on resolving whatever prompted it.

Tomorrow, when he actually had some mental energy in supply.

He guessed it to be somewhere between ten and ten-thirty in the morning, if his blurry vision could be trusted. Good. His father and sister would be out somewhere working the ranch and not in the house. He’d persuade his mother to fix him breakfast while he showered, assuming she was home and not at work, then sleep until supper. She’d cover for him, and he could avoid a confrontation with his father until he’d had a chance to refuel and reenergize.

Luck, unfortunately, wasn’t on Gage’s side.

He stepped into the bright, sunny kitchen of the Raintree home and nearly collided with his father, who had apparently been on his way out the door.

“Morning, Dad.” Gage quickly recovered and blustered through a friendly greeting. “How’s the ankle?” He side-stepped the older man, making straight for the refrigerator.

Having raised two children, one headstrong and the other a handful, Joseph Raintree long ago perfected a stare worthy of freezing a guilty twelve-year-old in his tracks. Gage wasn’t a kid anymore, but the stare still had the ability to immobilize him. He came to a grinding halt.

“You’ve been gone since Tuesday,” Joseph said in a low voice. His lips hardly moved, yet each word struck Gage like a tiny bullet.

There wasn’t more than a half-inch difference in their heights or the widths of their shoulders. And before the gout had gotten so bad, his father regularly gave Gage a run for his money in arm-wrestling matches. Steel-gray hair and a pronounced limp were the only visible signs Joseph had aged in the last twenty years. Inside the man, Gage knew, was a different story. Chronic pain had taken a toll on his father, in more ways than one.

“No message. No phone call. Your poor mother was worried sick.”

“Wait just a minute.” Gage exhaled and steadied himself. “I called home the minute I hung up from dispatch and talked to Hannah.”

“Who didn’t tell us until that evening where you were.”

And this was somehow Gage’s fault? “Her lack of communication skills isn’t my problem.”

“You’re part of this family, which makes it your problem.”

“Dad, even if she never said a word, you knew where I was.” Gage bent over the sink, ran the cold water and splashed a handful on his face. “All you had to do was listen to the local news or pick up the phone and talk to a neighbor,” he said after toweling dry. “Maybe leave this damn ranch once in a while and go into town.”

“You will not take that tone with me.”

“Dad—”

“What you will do is get dressed and finish the chores that need doing around here. Between you being gone and my gout, we’re behind. The herd hasn’t been moved to the south range yet, and we’re almost a week late in filing the latest grazing study report.”

“Didn’t Hannah do anything while I was gone?” Anger and resentment built inside Gage, fed in large part by his utter exhaustion. His younger sister, it seemed to him, got away with as little work as possible. He didn’t understand it, given her intention of taking over management of the ranch one day from their father. “I’m not the only one in this family capable of filling out forms.” He looked past his father into the family room. “Where is Hannah, anyway?”

“Registering for summer school.”

Gage slumped against the refrigerator and scrubbed his bristled jaw. “Summer school. How could I forget?”

How could he?

Hannah majored in agricultural management at Pineville College. She made the two-hour round-trip drive three days a week, arriving home too late to get much work done on the ranch. If not for a scholarship, she wouldn’t be attending college at all.

Gage didn’t begrudge his sister an education. Since he had no plans to follow in their father’s footsteps, he was all for Hannah doing it. And he himself had attended firefighting academy. But he did begrudge her their father’s blatant favoritism. Hannah was separated from Gage by eight years and three miscarriages. As the long-awaited and much-wanted second child, she could do no wrong in the eyes of her doting parents.

“I thought we agreed Hannah was going to stay home this summer.” Convinced his argument fell on deaf ears, Gage nonetheless persisted. “You know June and July are the busiest months of year for me.”

“Can’t be helped. She needs some class for next semester.”

Gage pushed off the refrigerator. One class might be doable, if they all worked together.