Читать книгу Betting On The Maverick - Cindy Kirk, Cindy Kirk - Страница 8

Chapter Two

Margot awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming through lace curtains and birdsong outside her window.

Vivian lay on the woven rag rug next to the bed. The dog lifted her head when Margot sat up, still dressed in the jeans and shirt she’d worn last night.

If that wasn’t bad enough, her eyes were gritty and her mouth tasted like sawdust.

Though having to walk down the hall to the bathroom had never particularly bothered her, for the first time Margot wished for an adjacent bath. The last thing she wanted was to tangle with Brad before she had her morning shower or coffee.

But she’d learned several hard lessons in the past couple of years and one of them was wishing didn’t change reality.

With a resigned sigh, she unlatched her suitcase and scooped up all the items she needed, then slipped down the hall to the aged bathroom with cracked white tile on the floor and a mirror that made her look like a ghost. She pulled her gaze from the disturbing image and listened. The house stood eerily silent.

Brad isn’t here.

It was too much to hope that he’d packed up his stuff and left. Though Margot had no idea where he’d gone, there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that he’d be back.

She was familiar with the type. Add a swagger and you could be talking about three-quarters of the cowboys on the rodeo circuit. Most of them only had two things on their mind; scoring enough points to make it to the rodeo finals in Las Vegas and getting into as many women’s pants as possible.

Her dad, a successful bareback rider back in the day, had warned her shortly before she’d left Rust Creek Falls to pursue her dream of one day making it to the PRCA National finals. She’d listened respectfully to everything Boyd Sullivan had said but it was a classic case of too little, too late.

Even at nineteen, Margot had been no shy virgin facing the big bad world. She’d lost her virginity—and her innocence—her junior year in high school.

Shortly after that momentous occasion in the backseat of Rex Atwood’s Mustang, she learned Rex had been bragging about “bagging” her to his fellow rodeo team members. Margot vividly remembered the day she’d confronted him and her fist had accidentally connected with his eye.

Both of them had learned a valuable lesson that day. He’d learned what happened when you crossed Margot Sullivan and she’d learned not to believe a guy who says he loves you in the heat of passion.

* * *

The bright autumn day dawned unseasonably warm, which was lucky for the calf that had been born last night. After checking on the rest of the cattle, Brad fixed a troublesome area of fence and reined his horse in the direction of the house.

Before leaving the house at dawn, he’d opened the door to Margot’s room to see if she needed anything. Viper stood guard at the side of the bed. Golden eyes glowed with a malevolent warning. Of course, the bared teeth and the growl weren’t all that welcoming, either.

A fully clothed Margot lay sprawled across the bed, facedown in the pillow. He’d known she was alive from the cute little snoring sounds. Though he’d never gotten the impression she and her dad were particularly close, he had to admit she had seemed concerned when she’d discovered him MIA.

Brad had been uneasy when he’d first learned Boyd didn’t have any family back east. But anyone who knew the old guy knew Boyd could take care of himself, drunk or not. The man reminded him of a badger, solitary and not all that pretty but damned determined.

Thankfully, his daughter took after her mother in the looks department. Though, he had to admit, last night she had shown a few badger tendencies. For a second, he’d thought she might try to rip a piece out of his hide.

Having him in her family home definitely had her all hot and bothered. Or maybe it was him without his shirt.

Brad grinned and relaxed even further in the saddle. There had been a potent sizzle of attraction between them. She’d done her best to ignore it. But he’d seen how her gaze had lingered on his bare chest and then dropped lower for an instant before returning to his face.

She might want him out of her house, but she also wanted him in her bed. A place where he wouldn’t mind spending a little time.

The sex would, of course, likely be a short-term kind of thing. It would be like one of those fireworks on the Fourth of July. Brilliant and hot, they’d light up the sky then everything would fizzle.

That was fine with him. His marriage to Janie had confirmed what he’d always known. He wasn’t a happily-ever-after kind of guy. Though Brad liked and respected women, he could never seem to make them happy. At least not out of bed.

The house was still quiet when he entered after putting his horse in the stable. Normally, he’d have stayed out most of the day, trying to get everything ready for winter. But he and Margot had a few things to square first.

Until they came to an understanding, he didn’t trust her not to toss his stuff into the yard and lock him out of the home. Thankfully, the doors didn’t have deadbolts and he’d been smart enough to drop a key into his pocket before leaving the house—just in case.

People in this part of the country barely locked their doors. If he had a mean-ass dog like Viper, there’d be no need to lock anything ever again.

Pulling the door shut, Brad glanced around. No sign of Margot. Or Viper.

Brad set the coffee to brew, then pulled out a heavy cast-iron skillet and went to work.

Several minutes later, when the eggs were frying in bacon grease and two slices of his mother’s homemade bread had just popped up in the toaster, Brad was distracted from his culinary pursuit by a voice from the doorway.

“What the heck do you think you’re doing?”

Ignoring the outrage in the tone, Brad wrote off the impressive anger to an as-yet-no-coffee morning.

“What does it look like?” He focused on plating the food. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m hungry. I assume you are, too.” He turned to glance at her.

It was a mistake. Hair still slightly damp from the shower hung in gentle waves past her shoulders. She’d pulled on a green long-sleeved tee that made her eyes look like emeralds and showed off her breasts to mouthwatering perfection. The jeans, well, the way they hugged those long legs should be outlawed.

Though Brad told himself not to go there, he imagined stripping off her shirt and filling his hands—and his mouth—with those amazing—

“What’s the matter with you?”

Brad blinked and the image vanished. He resisted the urge to curse. Barely. “What do you mean?”

His innocent tone had her green eyes flashing.

“You looked like you were plotting something.”

Oh, she was perceptive, this one. He had indeed been plotting. Plotting what to do once he got her into bed. The thought made him grin.

“I was just thinking about feasting on—” he stopped himself in the nick of time “—eggs. And bacon.”

“We need to talk.”

“Eat first. Then talk.” Brad placed the plates of food on the table then expertly filled two mugs with coffee. He cocked his head. “Cream?”

“Black.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

She took the cup he handed her then met his gaze.

“I’m a woman,” she said, “who is determined to get you out of my home.”

Viper, whom he’d up to now tried to ignore, growled as if in agreement.

“Drink your coffee,” he said mildly.

“Coffee won’t change my mind.” Still, she brought the cup to her lips and exhaled a blissful sigh after the first gulp. She looked up. “What is this? The cheap stuff my dad always had on hand did double-duty as a drain cleaner.”

“I order it online. It has chicory in it.”

Those wide lips of hers curved up. Though she wouldn’t admit it, Margot Sullivan looked as though she might be starting to soften toward him.

He thought about pulling out her chair, but decided that would be overkill. Brad pulled out one for himself and sat down.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, filling the small eating area in the country kitchen with warmth. He supposed some people found the wallpaper with dancing teakettles appealing. At first they’d bothered the heck out of him. Now he barely noticed them.

Though he’d moved in two months earlier, Brad had focused on the outdoor needs and had left the inside alone.

When Boyd had first left town, Brad felt sure the old guy would be back any day. Then he’d learned about the ticket to New York. Brad had asked around and discovered the old guy hadn’t requested any of the neighbors to watch the ranch. Of course, that may have been because he now considered it to be Brad’s.

After almost two months, Brad had grown weary of making the trek to the ranch every day and decided to move in.

Though the decor wasn’t to his liking, the only change he made was to the guest bedroom. He refused to sleep under a pink, blue and yellow quilt with ruffles around the shams.

The scrape of a chair against the linoleum had him looking up just in time to see Margot finally take a seat in the chair opposite him, her steaming mug gripped tightly in one hand.

“Your dog might be hungry,” he said. “Her kibble is in the bowl over there.”

Brad gestured with his head toward a weathered enclosed back porch that doubled as a storage area.

“I put some water out for her, too.”

Margot paused, coffee mug poised near those tempting full lips. “Where did you get the food?”

“From your truck.” He shrugged and shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I brought in your other stuff. It’s sitting in the foyer.”

“Thanks.” Still, she looked at him suspiciously, as if trying to figure out the catch.

Well, she could look all she wanted. There was no catch. If the dog didn’t eat, it’d get meaner. And Brad prized his ass. His brother Nate had always accused him of being soft on animals. Nothing could be further from the truth, unless feeling that any living being deserved to have fresh food and water qualified as soft.

While he’d briefly considered leaving her stuff in the truck as a way of saying hit-the-road-Red, he couldn’t do it. Despite what the deed said, the place still didn’t feel as if it belonged to him, and he wasn’t sure it ever would.

They ate in silence for several minutes. Though Brad considered himself a social guy, he’d enjoyed the solitude of this house, this ranch. When he’d worked his parents’ spread there was always someone around, his brothers and the other ranch hands. Until he could hire some help, he was on his own. Or he had been, until Margot had showed up.

Brad wondered what it said about him that he found himself enjoying the suspicious looks Viper shot him while chowing down on her food and the scrutiny in Margot’s emerald eyes from her spot across the table.

Her hand returned to her coffee cup and she took another long gulp, an ecstatic look on her face.

Would she look like that after sex, he wondered? He let his gaze linger on the large breasts evident beneath the clinging fabric of her tee.

When he lifted his gaze, Brad found icy green eyes fixed on him.

She set her mug down with a bam. “If you’re through staring, I suggest we get down to business. Gage is busy so he’s sending a detective or something. I didn’t even know we had those in this town. He should be here any minute—”

“You really called the sheriff?” Brad wasn’t sure why he was surprised. He hadn’t expected her to follow through on her threat made in the dark of night. Then again, though he barely knew this woman, it seemed like something she’d do. Still, he realized he’d hoped they could become better acquainted before she brought in the law.

Now that she was home, Brad supposed he could just turn the Leap of Faith over to her. But he hesitated to voice that option. From what he could tell, she and Boyd had been estranged, at least for the past few years. Once he signed the deed over to her, she could do with it what she wanted. Which might not be what Boyd would want...

“I felt it best to move swiftly.” Margot relaxed back in the metal chair, circa 1950, and peered at him over the top of her mug. “You understand.”

The challenge in those eyes stirred something inside him.

He shot her a sardonic smile. “I’d have taken exactly the same step.”

The look of surprise that flashed across her face pleased him. But before he had a chance to revel in this minor victory, Viper returned from the back porch, those narrowed piercing gold eyes never leaving him as she ambled past him to sit beside Margot’s chair.

The sound of a truck pulling up in the drive had Viper forgetting all about him to focus her attention on a new target. She gave three short high-pitched barks but quieted instantly at Margot’s command.

“I’ll get—” he began, shoving back his chair.

“I’ll get it.” She was already on her feet and moving toward the foyer. “This is my house.”

Brad moved to the counter, pulled out another mug and filled it with coffee, then topped off his and Margot’s cups.

He’d barely finished dumping the breakfast dishes in the sink when Margot and Viper returned with Russ Campbell.

Brad had met Russ when he returned to Montana after three years in Colorado. A police detective from Kalispell, Russ had recently been doing some consulting detective work for Gage Christensen in Rust Creek Falls.

“Mornin’, Russ.” Brad handed the guy a cup and then quickly performed introductions. “What made you stop by?”

“Margot, here.” Russ took the cup gratefully then glanced at the woman. “Called the station and asked Gage when we started allowing squatters.”

“I called because I need to know what’s been done and what you’re doing now to find my father.” Margot spoke slowly and distinctly, her eyes flashing. “That’s my first priority. Getting rid of him—” she pointed to Brad “—is secondary.”

Brad found it interesting she seemed so concerned about locating her dad now. According to what she’d said last night, they hadn’t spoken in months.

Once the deputy asked his questions, Brad had a few of his own.