Читать книгу Slow Hand Luke - Debbi Rawlins - Страница 7

A NNIE’ S GAZE FIXED on the knife. “What are you doing?”

Too late, Luke realized how it must look. He picked up the kitchen chair and turned it upside down. “This thing is a little shaky. Figure it needed some tightening.”

“Oh.” She blinked, then looked at him with relief in her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help.” This setup was perfect. Luke smiled at Annie. She was cute in an earthy sort of way. With her long untamed brown hair and wide hazel eyes with barely any makeup, she reminded him of a girl he’d hung out with in high school, in fact the only dark-haired girl he’d ever dated. And that had been only the once. After going to a movie, and then making out under the bleachers at the football stadium, they’d ended up being more like buddies. Until he’d skipped town.

He finished the task of tightening two of the legs, his mind racing. Obviously he couldn’t go back to his granddad’s ranch. Seabrook’s hired guns shouldn’t have figured it out and found the place so quickly. Luke had underestimated them. But staying in a motel around these parts was out of the question. He might as well take out an ad in the local paper telling them where he was. Yet he needed to stay close, to find a way to get to Joanne.

Annie Corrigan didn’t know it yet, but she was the answer to his problem. He set the chair to rights and smiled at her. “Have a seat, darlin’.”

Frowning slightly, she set a glass of what looked like apple juice on the table, or maybe it was Scotch. Either one was all right with him. “You go ahead,” she said.

“Anything wrong?” He removed his hat and set it on the table as he slid onto the chair.

“What? Oh, no, I was just—it’s nothing.”

He nodded, picked up the glass, smelled the apple juice and sipped its icy sweetness. He’d have much preferred scotch or better yet, beer, but for now, he needed to keep a wholesome impression. “You know if Chester’s still driving?”

“Not a clue.” She poured herself a glass, and he helped himself to a good look at the generous curve of her backside.

He looked up as soon as she turned around. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll get that car of yours out of the ditch.”

She looked torn. “I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than—”

“You can cook me breakfast. How’s that?”

She sighed, briefly closing her eyes and rubbing her right temple. “Then you’ll have to take me to the store to get groceries, and I’ll owe you again.”

Like hell, he’d go into town. He smiled. “Cheer up.”

“Right.” Her gaze went from the cracked linoleum floor to the yellow refrigerator that had to be over fifteen years old. “Have you taken a good look at this place?”

“Not your responsibility, is it?”

“Uh, yeah, it is, sort of,” she said, abruptly looking away. “It’s complicated.”

“So you’re gonna be fixing it up?”

She turned back to him, her lips parting, but nothing came out. Her shoulders sagged, and finally she said, “Yes.”

“Then you’re in luck. Just so happens I’m between jobs. For room and board, I’m all yours.”

“Really?”

“Do with me as you please, ma’am.”

Her lips twitched. “That’s quite an offer.”

Luke smiled. “You don’t know the half of it.”

She breathed in, her breasts expanding beneath her thin white cotton shirt. “Are you sure about this? It seems like the place needs an awful lot of work.”

“I can’t promise to get it all done, but I’ll do what I can in the next ten days.”

“Fair enough. But I insist on paying you something, as well.”

“No need. A roof over my head and grub in my belly is plenty.”

She frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute. You have a place near here.”

“Yeah, well, the thing is…” He cleared his throat. He knew the question was bound to come up, but he didn’t have an easy answer without sounding like a whipped dog. “I haven’t been back for a while, and the place is a mess.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to concentrate on getting your place in shape?”

He scrubbed at his face. How many questions was this woman gonna ask?

“Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the help…” Curiosity brought out the golden flecks in her eyes.

“Look, when I say I haven’t been back in a while, I’m talking a long time,” he muttered and saw that her interest hadn’t died any. “It’s complicated,” he said, echoing her earlier words.

She sat there quietly for a moment, her thoughts clearly somewhere else, and then said, “Got it.” She stuck out her hand. “You have a deal.”

He stared at her hand for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the gesture, but damn, he didn’t know any women who shook hands. They hugged, they kissed, some of them even pinched his ass, but they didn’t shake hands. Not that this was a bad thing. Just different.

“Um, something wrong?”

“Nope.” He slid his palm against her warm soft flesh. “Deal.”

“Good.”

Neither of them moved for several moments. She withdrew her hand first, took a quick sip of the juice she’d poured for herself and then got up.

He leaned back in the chair and watched her. Staying here with her wouldn’t be a hardship. No, sir. She was on the thin side, with small breasts, but that nice round backside more than made up for anything lacking up front. Not that he was an ass man. He just liked women, period. Always found something nice about each and every one of them. Got him in trouble enough times, that was for sure.

She turned suddenly, but he didn’t think she’d caught him checking her out. He hadn’t been that obvious. She opened the refrigerator again and then one of the cupboards. “You must be hungry,” she said, and went to another cupboard that was almost as bare as the first. “Let’s see. Canned peaches, more canned peaches and…” She got up on tiptoes to see what was on the back of the second shelf, and then sighed. “I hope you like canned peaches.”

Luke smiled. “I stopped at a store on the way over and bought some stuff for sandwiches. They’re in the cooler in the back of my truck.” He got to his feet. “I’ll go get it.”

“Go ahead and take it to the bunkhouse with you.”

“The bunkhouse?”

“Yeah.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sleeping in the bunkhouse. I’m sleeping here with you.”

“With me?” Her eyebrows arched in amusement. “You think so?”

He tried not to smile. He didn’t mean it like it sounded. He just wanted to stay in the house. “I’m cheap labor. Don’t I deserve a nice soft bed?”

She leaned a hip against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m sure Chester can accommodate you.”

“Come on now, darlin’.”

Her expression tightened. “Don’t take this wrong, okay, but I—”

“I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t blame you for mistrusting me. A girl can’t be too careful and all that, but if I’d wanted to—”

“I’m not worried that you’re going to attack me,” Annie said, cutting him off. “I simply don’t like you calling me darlin’.”

“Why?”

She looked at him as if he’d crawled out from under a rock. “It’s demeaning.”

He thought for a moment. Hell, nowadays you couldn’t call them ma’am or darlin’ without getting your head bitten off. “Well, I figured I knew what that word meant, but now I’m not so sure. Just trying to be friendly is all.” He gave her his winning smile, she only rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should be more worried about letting a strange man into the house alone with you.”

She laughed. “Trust me. I can take care of myself,” she said, watching him closely. Too closely for his liking. “I’m a cop. A New York police officer. Brooklyn to be exact.”

That took the wind out of him. “A cop?”

She nodded.

“A cop,” he repeated, mostly to himself, hoping this was a really bad joke.

“Yep. Sergeant Annie Corrigan.”

Damn.

“Y OU FIND THAT no-good son of a bitch yet?”

Sheriff Jethro Wilcox held the cell phone away from his ear. Ernest Seabrook was loud enough when he wasn’t pissed off and, for the past two days, the man had been madder than a rutting buck without a doe.

“Not yet, Mr. Seabrook, but I figure he’ll show up at his granddaddy’s old ranch soon enough.”

“Soon enough?” Seabrook hollered. “Soon enough? Yesterday couldn’t have been goddamn soon enough. You understanding me, Jethro?”

“Yes, sir.” No use pointing out that was merely a figure of speech. The old man was as hardheaded as he was obnoxious, but he paid mighty well and it wouldn’t serve any purpose to piss him off further.

“You get me my million bucks, you hear? And you bring me that son of a bitch.”

No kidding. Why else would he be sitting out here by the McCall ranch, sweating like a pig in the heat and humidity near a mosquito-infested pond? “Yes, sir.” One of the critters buzzed near his ear. He swatted, missed and cursed.

“What did you say to me, boy?” Seabrook’s voice came out in an angry wheeze and then he started coughing. More than likely caused by the stinky cigars he was always smoking.

Wilcox smiled. “Nothing, Mr. Seabrook. Just getting eaten alive by these friggin’ mosquitoes.”

“Well, the sooner you find Luke McCall, the sooner you can go home.” Seabrook severed the connection.

Wilcox flipped his cell closed and slipped it into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt. He could go home any time he damn well pleased. Technically he didn’t work for Seabrook, but he’d gotten himself knee-deep in debt to the bastard, which, around these parts, pretty much meant Seabrook owned his ass.

What he couldn’t figure out was why Joanne stayed with that nasty piece of lard. Yeah, he had money, but she was a mighty fine looking woman and half his age. She could find another sugar daddy over in Dallas. A woman like that would be taken care of for a long time if she was so inclined.

Another mosquito buzzed close to his ear. He swatted at it, slapping the back of his sunburned neck too hard. “Son of a bitch.” He stared through the trees toward the highway. Couldn’t see a damn thing. Twenty minutes ago he’d seen headlights, but it must have been a wrong turn. Besides, the lights were high and wide like a truck’s, not like McCall’s flashy red Corvette.

Jethro stretched out his legs and slid lower in the seat so that the back of his head hit the headrest. If McCall didn’t show up tonight or early tomorrow morning, Jethro’s guess was that the guy had hopped a plane in Dallas. If Jethro had stolen a million dollars, that’s what he would’ve done. Get the hell out of Dodge, pronto. The only reason he was sitting in this crummy place at all was on account of Seabrook’s stubborn belief that McCall wouldn’t leave the state. Or the county, for that matter.

The whole thing just didn’t add up. Seabrook was president of the stockmen’s association that put up rodeo prize money. Luke McCall was one of the top bull riders in the country. Over his career, he’d earned over a million dollars and, as long in the tooth as that ole boy was getting, he was still riding. More than likely he would’ve taken a nice chunk of that prize money at next month’s rodeo. So why steal the mil? And what had he been doing at Seabrook’s ranch anyway?

There was no love lost between those two. Not since the Fourth of July two years ago, when Seabrook spooked Luke’s horse real bad right before the rodeo started. Some folks thought the old man had done it on purpose. If Luke had hurt himself he wouldn’t have ridden that big mean Samson. Staying on that Brahma bull for a record time ended up winning Luke a fifty-thousand-dollar purse.

Still, that missing money didn’t mean anything to Seabrook. Only a portion of it was his contribution to the stockmen’s association and it wasn’t out of the goodness of their hearts they put up the prize money. It was all promotion. They got back large returns that made blowhards like Seabrook millionaires.

Maybe Luke grabbed the cash to get even with Seabrook. Although that didn’t seem like McCall’s style. Or maybe he just wanted to make Seabrook sweat for a while. The old man was obviously embarrassed. That’s why he wanted the whole mess kept under wraps.

Jethro adjusted his hat to partially cover his eyes but still allow him to see if any headlights appeared. Seabrook had offered to square his debt if he brought Luke back and, no matter what their beef, that’s exactly what Jethro aimed to do.

W ELL, HE DIDN’ T RUN, but he sure looked as if he wanted to. Annie poured herself a second glass of juice. Her mouth had gotten so dry it felt as if her tongue had swollen. “You want another one?”

Luke shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go get a beer out of my cooler.”

“Knock yourself out.” She’d bet next month’s rent that he’d get in his truck and she’d never see him again. The horrified look on his face when she told him she was a cop took first place as far as reactions went.

“Want one?”

“Sure.” She waited until he got to the back door and said, “You forgot your hat.”

He turned and stared at it for a moment, and then his eyes met hers and his mouth curved up on one side. “I didn’t forget it.”

She watched him leave, and then she moved to the window to watch him walk to his truck. Yeah, he made a great picture with his long legs and snug-fitting jeans. Broad shoulders, for which she was a hopeless sucker, that tapered to a narrow waist made him look like he should be in a commercial.

She was equally interested in the way he walked. His long leisurely strides told her more about the man than he had himself. It was her job to study people, to understand the small quirks or habits that gave them away. So far, Luke had shown her two things: confidence and compassion, an interesting combination in a male ego. Healthy certainly, but really surprising at his age and the way he looked.

He had to be in his early thirties, and had to receive oodles of female attention. Probably got by on charm more than anything else. He certainly wasn’t lacking in that department. Even though Annie hated gratuitous endearments, she knew enough women who ate them up.

Tomorrow she’d have to ask Aunt Marjorie about him, or even ask Chester for that matter. She’d left the barn door wide-open already, as they’d say around here. She knew well enough she wouldn’t sleep soundly with this guy in the next room. She trusted her instinct but she’d be foolish not to be a bit apprehensive.

He turned back toward the house, and she ducked away from the window, grabbed their glasses and rinsed them out. She waited until she heard him set something on the table before she turned around. He’d brought in the entire cooler, which made sense, but it was still a little weird. She’d just met him and he was practically moving in.

“I figured I ought to put this food in the refrigerator. Can’t let it go bad. We might have to live on ham sandwiches for a while.”

“With white bread, I bet.”

“Is there any other kind?” He winked at her, and then pulled packages of cold cuts out of the cooler and deposited them into the refrigerator.

She watched him stack everything neatly on the second shelf, leaving room for the beer and a quart of milk. She thought about offering to help, but it was much more fun watching the way his shirt stretched across his back as he moved and how the soft faded denim molded his perfect ass.

His legs were long and, even without the inch heels on his cowboy boots, he was tall. Well over six feet for sure, since she was five-seven and only came up to his shoulders.

He kept out two beers. After opening them both, he handed one to her. She took it, even though she wasn’t crazy about beer. Rarely did she drink alcohol, and when she did it was some sweet frothy concoction that the guys at the precinct called a girly drink.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Luke asked after taking a long pull.

“Get my car out.”

“Right. First thing.”

“Talk to Chester about repairs.”

Luke pulled out a kitchen chair for her. “Don’t count on him being much help. He’s always had a bum leg and, at his age—” he shook his head “—the guy shouldn’t be doing too much.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sat down, exhaustion suddenly saturating her limbs. Not only was it late, but her body was still on East Coast time.

He took the seat across from her and leaned both elbows on the table. “He can help us figure out where the repairs are most needed and what kind of supplies are stored before we buy anything.”

She’d just paid off a chunk of her credit card so she was good in that department. Of course, she had no idea how much wood and paint and fencing and those sorts of things cost. If she maxed out her credit card, she didn’t care. Even that wouldn’t erase the guilt she felt for accepting the tuition money.

Annie shifted positions trying to get comfortable and bumped his leg. “Sorry.”

They both moved to get out of the way at the same time and bumped legs again.

Luke gave her a lopsided smile. “You keep flirting with me like this, I’ll start calling you darlin’ again.”

“I have a gun and I know how to use it.”

“Now you’re getting me excited.”

She laughed. “You’re one sick puppy.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Deservedly?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said matter-of-factly, and tipped the beer to his lips. Setting the bottle back on the table, he jerked and winced. His sharp intake of breath ended with a mild oath.

“What’s wrong?”

He gingerly rolled his shoulder. “Got a bad bruise.”

“A bruise?”

“From a fall.”

She didn’t say anything, just watched him probe his shoulder. A bruise wouldn’t cause that much pain. Maybe he didn’t want to tell her what had happened. Maybe she should start worrying.

He sighed. “You know what a rodeo is?”

“Of course.”

He started to unbutton his shirt. “Let’s say I met a bull more ornery than me.”

Each unfastened button exposed more smooth golden brown skin. “What are you doing?”

He undid the last button and shrugged the shirt off his left shoulder. “The doc gave me some ointment that helps with the stiffness.” He got a small tube out of the duffel bag beside the cooler and uncapped it. “I’ve dislocated it twice now and tore some ligaments last year, so now it acts up every once in a while.”

“Should you have been carrying all that stuff?” she asked, nudging her chin toward the cooler, but unable to drag her gaze away from his chest.

“It didn’t hurt then.”

“Are you twelve?” Her gaze stalled on his belly where the hair arrowed downward, and then slid to the bulk behind his fly. Definitely not twelve.

Smiling, he squeezed the white goop onto his palm. When he stretched his arm across his chest to reach the back of his shoulder, he grimaced, the pain tightening his features.

“Here.” She scooped the ointment from his palm onto hers and stood behind him. After rubbing her palms together to warm them, she gently slid them across his back.

He tensed.

She withdrew.

“Don’t stop.”

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

“I promise to cry like a baby.”

She smiled and slid her palms over hard muscle and smooth skin. Wow, he was perfect. Too perfect. Her nipples tightened. She bit her lower lip, and slowly worked her fingers around his shoulder blades.

He moaned. Not like he was hurt. More like how she felt: damp between the thighs, her mouth dry as cotton. When her hands started to shake, she stepped back until he was out of reach.

Luke looked over his shoulder at her.

“Good night,” she murmured, and took off down the hall.