Читать книгу Betting On The Maverick - Cindy Kirk - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Despite the worry over her father, Margot relaxed in the saddle. She’d grown up riding before she could walk. The fact that she couldn’t compete until next season was a blow, but she was thankful the doctor said she could still ride at a slow walk. Exploring these meadows and valleys on horseback under the big Montana sky had been a huge part of her childhood.

Though she’d never given much thought to the matter, she realized now that the land she assumed would always be there for her was in danger of slipping away.

A poker game.

It was a good thing her mother wasn’t here. Giselle Sullivan would have kicked her husband’s ass nine ways to Sunday if he’d pulled a stunt like this when she was alive. Of course, Boyd would never have gambled or drank or ordered his only daughter to stay away if her mother was still alive.

He adored the pretty city girl he’d married when he was fifty-three. Married once in his early twenties, then quickly divorced because of his drinking, Boyd had long given up hope of finding his own happily-ever-after.

Margot recalled how his face glowed whenever he spoke of the day he’d run into Giselle in New York City. Though her father rarely left the ranch in later years, apparently he’d once loved to travel. Running into the pretty career woman had been a fluke, but for both of them it had been love at first sight. He’d quit drinking right then and there, knowing Giselle deserved better.

Sobriety had stuck. They’d stuck. When Margot made an appearance two years later when Giselle was forty-three, both her parents had shed tears of joy.

Margot’s heart tightened remembering the angry words between her and her father the last time they’d spoke. If she could only be granted a do-over, she’d respond differently.

“I’m going to hire a private detective,” Margot announced, though why she felt the need to make Brad aware of her plans she wasn’t certain.

Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he’d respected her need for silence. The interaction with the detective had brought all her fears bubbling to the surface. While she’d kept her composure, by the time he left and she reached the stable, her control was ready to snap.

The ridiculous conversation about Vivian had actually helped. Thankfully Brad didn’t feel the need to fill the silence between them with inane chatter. Instead he’d showed her the parts of the fence, answered her questions regarding the price of hay and otherwise remained silent.

“No need to hire a PI,” Brad said.

“If you’re thinking just because Russ said he’s following up that’s enough—”

“I’m thinking,” he said pointedly, “that it isn’t necessary because I’ve already hired one.”

“You have?” If Margot had been a less experienced rider, she’d have fallen off her horse in shock. “Why?”

“Crawford land has butted up to the Leap of Faith for generations. Boyd went to school with my grandmother. Besides, I kind of like the guy. I want to find out what happened to him, make sure he’s safe.”

Tears stung the backs of Margot’s eyes. But a sliver of distrust remained. It would be so easy to say he’d hired a detective—so no one else would—and then have the illusive detective find nothing. But for what purpose?

She wasn’t sure if it was the sun, the lingering effects of fatigue from the long drive yesterday or remnants from the skull fracture and concussion, but her head started to swim.

“I’m going to take a break,” she announced, pulling her horse under a tall cottonwood near a creek. “You go on.”

After dismounting, she moved to the tree and sat, resting her back against the massive trunk. Vivian, who’d been trotting along beside the horses, took a stance near her feet, her amber gaze firmly focused on Brad.

She wasn’t surprised when he got off his horse and tied the animal to a smaller tree nearby.

“That hard head of yours hurting?” he asked in an insolent tone.

“What’s it to you?”

“Just wondering if I’m going to have to strap you across the back of my horse to get you back to the house.”

“In your dreams,” she shot back, relieved he’d responded with cocky arrogance rather than sympathy.

“Viper looks thirsty.”

Margot glanced at Vivian. Though the temperature was a mild sixty, the heeler visibly panted. With so much going on and despite the fullness around the dog’s midsection, it was easy to forget Vivi was pregnant.

Though Margot hadn’t thought to bring any water with her, there was a creek nearby. She pushed to her feet, discovering that the short break had eased the headache into the manageable range.

“I can—” Brad began.

“She won’t go with you,” Margot said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And she won’t leave me.”

“Then I guess we take a walk together.” He reached out to take her arm but after seeing her pointed look, dropped his hand. “You got some hang-up about a man touching you?”

“I most certainly do not,” Margot retorted before realizing she’d played right into his hands. “I don’t know you. I don’t particularly like you. That’s why I don’t want you touching me.”

His gaze met hers. “Liar.”

“What are you talking about?” Margot sputtered.

“You want me to touch you,” he said as if speaking the gospel from the pulpit. “But you’re scared of what might happen once I do.”

“Oh, for the love of—” She reined in her emotions. “You are so incredibly arrogant. You think every woman is interested in that hot body of yours.”

A grin spread across his face, like a kid opening a present at Christmastime. “You think my body is hot?”

“Let’s get a few things straight. I’m not interested in touching you. I’m not interested in sleeping with you. I am interested in getting you out of my house.”

“My house,” he corrected. “And you are interested in sleeping with me. You just won’t admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit.” She flung her hands up in the air, drawing Vivian’s watchful gaze as the dog lapped up crystal-clear water from the bubbling creek.

“Come on,” Brad teased. “This attraction between us is so strong it’s a wonder we haven’t both burst into flames.”

“Delude yourself all you want.” Margot kept her face expressionless. There was no way, no way, she was letting him know that she found him the teensiest bit attractive. “I have a compromise I’d like to propose.”

“No touching below the waist?”

“Shut up.” She fought to hide a smile. The guy never gave up. “I’m talking about the house.”

She inhaled deeply, that crisp scent of autumn in the air. It wouldn’t be long before the temperature would drop and the cool breeze would turn frigid. The cattle would need to be fed. She’d have to fire up the tractor and attach the blade so she could plow the lane once the snow came. With four-wheel drive, at least her truck would get around.

How had her dad managed these past few years, she wondered? Even before her mother passed, it wasn’t as if Giselle was the outdoorsy type. He had no sons to help, no family nearby and he’d told his only daughter to take a hike. Had there been a growing sense that the ranch was becoming too much for him to handle? Had he secretly considered the land a burden?

Certainly she’d seen a few signs that she’d chosen to ignore. Because every time she confronted him he got belligerent.

Her dad had always been proud of how he’d maintained the ranch. But, even before her mom died, Margot had noticed that some things were being neglected. Last year he hadn’t even gotten up the snow fence and the drifts had blocked the lane until he’d been able to get the tractor out and plow.

Once her mom had passed, it was as if she’d taken any drive he’d possessed with her. Of course, most of that lethargy could be due to the alcohol.

“We need to get back,” Brad said abruptly.

“We haven’t finished our talk.”

“If you’re not interested in making out, there’s nothing keeping us here.”

“Is everything about sex with you?”

He paused, considered. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Not sure how to respond to such a comment, Margot said nothing, merely returned to her horse and mounted. “Forget a compromise. Once we get back to the house, I want you to pack up your stuff and go back to the Shooting Star. Once my dad returns, we can sort out what he owes.”

“Good try.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He mounted the roan with an ease that spoke of long years in the saddle. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know how many times I have to say this, but this is my home now. Legally.”

“Oh, so you’re saying I have to leave?”

That would happen when hell froze over, she thought to herself.

“Absolutely not.” He gave her a little wink. “I want you to stay.”

“You do?”

“How else are we ever going to become, ah, intimately acquainted, if you’re living somewhere else?”

* * *

The invitation to accompany Brad to his parents’ house for dinner that evening surprised her. She was ready to say no when she realized that this might be an opportunity. As she’d had no luck in convincing Brad to move out, perhaps she could get his parents on her side and they could convince him.

Margot dressed carefully for the dinner though she knew she’d probably have been properly attired in jeans and a nice shirt. But this wasn’t neighbors getting together for a barbecue; this was a business meeting of sorts. With this fact in mind, she’d pulled out a pair of black pants and topped them with a green sweater. Instead of cowboy boots, she pulled on a pair of shiny heeled ones. She even took a little extra time with her makeup.

Though she was most happy in jeans, she had just enough of her girlie mother in her to enjoy dressing up occasionally.

Her fingers moved to the horseshoe necklace around her neck. It had been a gift from her mother when she was ten and had participated in her first big rodeo. Though many of the girls were older, she’d been excited to get second place.

Her father had been less than impressed. It was the first, but certainly not the last, time she’d heard his “second place is the first loser” speech.

Margot’s fingers tightened around the horseshoe. Her mother’s faith in her ability had never faltered and Margot was determined not to disappoint her now. She would find her father, bring him home and get the deed to the ranch back, one way or the other.

She gave Vivian a scrub on the top of her head. “You’ll have the whole house to yourself tonight, Vivi. Relax and enjoy.”

Suddenly cognizant of the time, Margot rushed out of the bedroom and slammed into Brad.

“Whoa, there, filly.” His strong hands steadied her.

She inhaled sharply and breathed in the intoxicating scent of his cologne. As her gaze took in his dark pants and gray shirt, she realized she wasn’t the only one who’d done a little dressing up. “We’re going to be late.”

The second the words slipped past her lips she wished she could pull them back. “We’re” made it sound too much like they were a couple, which they weren’t, not at all.

“Plenty of time,” Brad said easily, his appreciative gaze studying her from head to toe. “You look nice.”

He sniffed the air. “Smell good, too. Did you put on that flowery perfume for me? I definitely approve.”

“Why you—” For a second Margot was tempted to rush back in her room and wash off the scent she’d impulsively sprayed on after her shower. But that would only make her look like a gauche sixteen-year-old. And she hadn’t been that for an awfully long time. So instead she laughed and patted his cheek. “Oh, you poor deluded man.”

Margot wondered whether they should drive separately just in case his parents convinced him to turn over the house to her. Though the chance of that happening was a long shot, it could happen.

She felt him study her as she slipped past him and headed down the steps. He caught up with her at the door, reaching around her so quickly she had no choice but to let him open it for her.

“I have no idea what’s on the menu tonight,” he told her, then pinned her with those amazing green eyes. “Unless you’re talking about something other than—”

“Forget it.”

When they reached his truck, she paused, then heaved a resigned sigh and opened the door. Even knowing the man as little as she did, the odds that she could persuade him to stay at his parents’ home tonight were slim to none.

“Let’s get back to the point I was making. The menu.”

“No worries.” She settled into the leather seat, fastened the belt. “I’m not particular.”

“I wasn’t speaking about food.” Brad turned over the engine and cast a sideways glance in her direction. “You didn’t accept my invitation for dinner because you wanted to see my parents or because you wanted to spend time with me.”

“Give the guy a bubblegum cigar.”

“Seriously, something is going on in that devious mind of yours. I want to know what it is.”

Margot simply smiled and reached forward. “Mind if I change the station?”

Before he had a chance to respond she’d already changed it to a classic country station. As Merle started wailing about love gone wrong, she poised herself for Brad’s next volley.

Vivian ran along the truck barking her displeasure at being left behind. When Brad turned onto the gravel road in the direction of town, Vivian stopped running but continued to bark.

In the cab of the truck the subtle spicy scent of Brad’s cologne mingled with her perfume. A watchful waiting filled the air.

Instead of being disturbed by it, Margot felt a thrill of exhilaration. The same feeling she got before she entered the ring on Storm and started the race around the barrels.

“I’m on to you, Red,” he said after about a mile.

Now this was interesting. She lifted a brow. “Really?”

“My parents aren’t going to side with you,” he told her. “Trust me. If that’s why you came, you’ll be heading home tonight disappointed.”