Читать книгу The Cowboy's Second Chance - Christyne Butler, Christyne Butler - Страница 12

“Watch out!” Landon cried out. “Hot coffee!”

“Oh!” Maggie grabbed on to the front of his shirt.

With one arm clamped around her waist, he swung her in a neat circle. He held a mug away from them, managing not to spill a drop. “You’re in a bit of a hurry, aren’t you?”

She looked up. Despite the height difference—he easily carried six or more inches on her—she noticed how perfectly they fit together. Without his hat and his dark hair pulled back from his face, the sharp angles of his nose and cheekbones were more prominent.

Maggie’s stomach zoomed for another roller-coaster ride. She forced herself to look away, her eyes centering on his chest. Her blood ran cold.

She pushed, and he released her. “Where did you get that shirt?”

“I gave it to him.” Nana B. set two plates of food on the table. “No sense waiting on Willie. The old coot probably can’t pull himself away from the mirror. You two eat.”

Landon grabbed an empty chair, but remained standing. Maggie stared at him until she realized he was waiting on her. She fumbled with her belt, getting it tight against her stomach, before she pulled out her chair and sat.

He followed. “It was either this shirt or nothing. All of my stuff is wet.”

“What?”

“I started his laundry.” Nana B. placed another plate of food on the table as Willie entered the kitchen. “It’s about time, Handsome.”

Maggie’s eyes shifted from Willie’s cheeks, marked by embarrassment, to her grandmother. “You did what?”

Landon put his napkin on his lap. “After washing up I walked out of the bathroom and found your grandmother waiting with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and this shirt in the other.”

“One whiff of the duffel bag he’d brought in told me he needed his skivvies cleaned, and cleaned good,” Nana B. said. “So, I dumped it all in the washer. Then I demanded his T-shirt, too.”

“I’ve been on the road the last week and haven’t—she said I wasn’t going to eat until I changed.” Landon offered a careless shrug. “After catching the scent of eggs and bacon, I did what I was told.”

“Which is usually best when dealing with my grandmother,” Maggie said, staring at the older woman.

“Makes sense to help him out.” Nana B. offered an arched brow in response as she joined them. “If he’s gonna work here.”

“I told you he’s not—”

“I told you I’m not—”

Landon’s words collided with Maggie’s, and they both stopped short.

“Mr. Cartwright fixed the corral in less than an hour,” Nana B. said while buttering her toast. “Isn’t that amazing? Maggie’s been after Spence to get it done for a week now. Speaking of that youngster, think we might see him and his sidekick crawl outta the bunkhouse anytime soon?”

Maggie set her coffee mug on the table. “Ah, Nana, I should’ve told you before you started cooking. Spence and Charlie quit last night. They’re working for Greeley now.”

“They’re what?” Nana B. cried out, her knife clanging against her plate. “Those no-good, snot-nose saplings! What are we going to—”

Maggie cut her off. “Let’s talk about it after breakfast, okay?”

Silence filled the sunny country kitchen. The only sound came from Willie, who seemed determined to finish his breakfast in record time.

Nana B. frowned, then replaced it with another bright smile. “Whatever you say, dearie. Mr. Cartwright can be on his way as soon as I’m done fluffin’ and foldin’.”

“Ah, ma’am, I can handle my own laundry—”

“Don’t you never mind.” Nana B. cut Landon’s protest off with a wink. “Considering the quick work you did this morning, we owe you a debt of thanks. Now eat before it gets cold.”

Landon glanced between Maggie and her grandmother before he turned to his food and dug in.

Maggie did the same, not completely trusting her grandmother’s scheming mind. Not that she could do anything about it now. If the woman thought corralling Landon was a way to help, she’d try to do it.

Not that Maggie wasn’t trying to hire more cowboys, but after finding Kyle sweet-talking Spence and Charlie, she’d bet his long reach extended to the whole county, keeping anyone from answering her ads.

Except for his former employee who sat at her kitchen table.

“So, cowboy, where you from?”

Willie’s question broke the silence. Maggie gave Landon an expectant look.

“No place special,” he said. “I finished a drive for the Red River Ranch in Blakeslee, Colorado. I’ve never been to this part of the country before, so I decided to head this way.”

“How long were you at Red River?” Nana B. asked.

Landon paused for a long moment. Maggie got the feeling if it was anyone else asking, he’d tell ’em to mind their own business. “About a month. Before that the Double Deuce outside of Las Vegas, and the Circle S near Tucson.”

“You move around a lot.” The words were out of Maggie’s mouth before she could pull them back.

His lips pressed into a hard line before he spoke. “There’s a lot of country to see.”

He’s a drifter. Maggie put the thought firmly at the front of her brain as she resumed eating.

Landon forced his attention away from Maggie’s mesmerizing green eyes and back to his plate. Her folded ad burned in the back pocket of his jeans.

Should he stay or should he go?

The question swirled inside his head, much as it’d done all night. After getting a good look at the Crescent Moon in the daylight, he understood why Maggie and her grandmother were upset about losing two more cowboys. They needed help. A lot of help.

Most of the buildings could do with repairs and fresh paint. He’d found the tools to fix the corral in a shed that looked ready to topple at a strong wind. Here in the kitchen the linoleum flooring curled in places and the appliances were a shade of avocado green that dated them back three decades. He didn’t know how many head of cattle or acres of land she had, but he’d tended to almost a dozen horses in the barn this morning.

How was she going to handle it all with her grandmother and two geriatric cowboys?

Two ladies and two old geezers. Too much like family for him. At one time, family had been a big part of his life. The biggest. Not anymore. And he had no one to blame but himself.

“You got another job lined up?”

Another nosy question from Willie broke into his thoughts.

Landon looked up and found all three watching him. He took a sip of strong, black coffee. “On the other side of the Black Hills.”

That was a lie. When he’d been forced from his last job, a fellow cowboy had told him about a place, saying they were always looking for help. What he didn’t have was enough money to get from Wyoming to South Dakota.

“I guess you’ll want to head out soon, seeing as it’s a couple days’ drive,” Maggie said.

His gaze held hers. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

She pursed her lips then returned to eating. This time he couldn’t look away from the fork sliding between her lips. The memory of his mouth on hers flashed through his mind.

Had they or hadn’t they?

He still wasn’t sure if the kiss in his truck was real or a fantasy. He raised his gaze, surprised at the quick flash of heat in her eyes. Was she thinking the same thing?

Probably not, he decided when her eyes flickered away and centered on his chest, her lips flattening into a hard line. She’d frowned like that earlier when she’d pushed him away. Good thing, too, or else she would’ve realized the effect her body had on his.

Another reason to get the hell out of here.

What exactly occurred between the two of them last night was a bit fuzzy, but having her in his arms again this morning made one thing clear. He’d put his hands on her. And not to steady her or keep her from falling. No, he’d held her close, pulled her up hard against him in order to feel the intimate details of her soft curves.

“Bats wingin’ around the belfry?”

Landon looked at Willie. “Excuse me?”

“The way you’re shaking your head makes me wonder if we should be hearin’ a rattling noise or the thrapping of wings.”

“Thrapping?”

“Yeah, you know.” Willie dropped his fork and knife, tucked his fingers under his armpits, and waved his bent arms. “Thrap, thrap, thrap.”

Nana B. frowned at Willie. “Old man, you’ve taken one too many horseshoes to the head.” Then she smiled at Landon. “More food, Mr. Cartwright?”

“No, thank you, ma’am.” Her generous helpings had filled his empty stomach. He ignored Willie’s question and rose, putting his plate and utensils in the sink. “I wouldn’t mind another cup of coffee, though.”

“Help yourself.” Nana B. pointed to the counter. “The coffee maker runs twenty-four hours a day around here.”

He filled his mug with the steaming liquid. He could feel Maggie’s gaze on him.

“You need more food, honey?”

Landon turned to lean against the counter just as Maggie’s grandmother asked her the question. She snapped her attention back to her plate, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Are you kidding?” she said, jabbing at the remains of her eggs. “There’s too much here already.”

“Hogwash! You’re too skinny, like those girls on that castaway show. Now, finish up.”

Willie guffawed behind his coffee mug. Landon did the same, though more quietly. Too skinny? No way.

He’d been right last night about her dress hiding her curves. They were in plain sight today, thanks to a soft, gray T-shirt and faded jeans hugging her in all the right places. A ponytail made her look about eighteen, probably ten years younger than her true age.

“Well, the day’s a-wasting.” Willie rose, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He placed his dishes in the sink before grabbing a ragged, straw Stetson from a hook near the door. “I’m gonna meet up with Hank and check the herd. Unless you need me here?”

Willie eyed Landon and Maggie followed his gaze.

“No, we’ll be fine,” she said. “Oh, my truck. I’ve got to get into town—”

“I’ll take you,” he interrupted.

Her green eyes returned to his, and he found himself wishing for his hat.

“I thought you were leaving?” she asked.

He was. So why weren’t his feet moving?

Placing his mug on the counter, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’ll drop you off on my way out.”

She didn’t reply.

“Margaret Anne, where are your manners?” Nana B. chided. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” she dutifully repeated, looking away as she rose.

Landon nodded, not believing she meant it and wondering why he cared. “I’ll finish up my laundry so we can head out.”

“I told you not to worry about that.” Nana B. dried her hands with a dishrag. “It’s gonna be a couple of hours before you can leave anyway.”

“A couple hours?”

Maggie walked to the sink and dumped her dishes into the soapy water. “The machine’s old. It takes a few cycles to get everything dry.”

“Dryer-schmryer. I’ll put this beautiful day to good use and hang most of it outside. Nothing like the smell of clean clothes fresh from flapping in the sunshine.” Nana B. draped the dish towel over Maggie’s shoulder and winked before walking into the mudroom.

Fresh linen.

The memory of that scent invading his dreams caused Landon to draw in a deep breath. There it was again, mixed among the lingering smells of frying bacon and lemon dish soap. Since he’d held Maggie in his arms, her fresh, unsullied fragrance clung to his clothes, and his fingers itched at the awakened memory of soft skin.

Willie cleared his throat. “I’ll be heading out, then.”

Maggie nodded. “See you at dinner.”

Willie nodded and moved to Landon. “I guess I’ll say my goodbyes.”

Landon took his outstretched hand. “Much obliged for—well, for last night.”

“No need. You helped Miss Maggie with that jackass Gree—” Willie’s eyes darted to Maggie’s grandmother busy at the washing machine. His voice dropped to a mumble. “—and we helped you.”

“Is he as much of a weasel as he pretends to be?” Landon asked, ending the handshake.

“Yes siree.”

“No.”

Maggie’s disagreement had Landon locking gazes with her across the kitchen. Her eyes held for a moment then broke free, and she busied herself clearing the table. He looked back at the elderly cowboy.

“You didn’t take a beatin’ for no reason,” Willie muttered before heading out. The sound of the back door closing echoed through the kitchen.

Landon moved toward the table, keeping his voice soft. “You told Willie about your run-in with Greeley. But not your grandmother?”

Maggie ignored him as she put things away in the refrigerator.

He leaned closer and asked, “She accepts a stranger who spent the night in your barn and ends up at her table the next morning?”

“Not much surprises my grandmother anymore.” Maggie closed the fridge door, pausing to push hard against the handle until it clicked shut.

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

She spun around, her honey-colored hair whipping over her shoulder. “What happened last night was no big deal.”

Landon crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the need to brush away the few strands caught at the edge of her mouth. “You get manhandled, break up fights and bring home strangers often?”

First surprise, then anger crossed Maggie’s features. She advanced on him until they stood toe to toe. “You don’t know me. You don’t know this ranch. And you sure as hell made it clear you don’t want to work here. So why don’t you mind your own business?”

She pushed past him and stomped across the kitchen.

He watched her go, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. Maggie Stevens had a temper, and she was sexy as hell when riled.

No, don’t go there. You’re halfway out the door.

Still, his gut told him something wasn’t right. He didn’t know if it was Maggie’s refusal to tell her grandmother about last night or the fact she’d brought home a total stranger and treated him like family.

Forget it. You don’t know these people from a hole in the wall, and you’ve got your own problems to deal with like an empty wallet and a lame horse.

Ah, hell.

He started for the back door, grabbing his hat on the way out. Maggie headed across the yard. He followed her into the cool interior of the barn. “Hold on a minute—”

“I don’t have time to hold on.” Maggie moved from one empty stall to the next, pausing to open each door and push it flat against the wall. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve a lot of work to do.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Where do I start?”