Читать книгу Barefoot Blue Jean Night - Debbi Rawlins, Debbi Rawlins - Страница 10

“I’M GOING OUT THERE to work. It won’t be a pleasure ride,” Cole said, looking to Rachel for help. He wasn’t about to let Jamie go with him. Not only did he truly mean to replace those pipes that had been leaking, but he didn’t need the distraction.

His sister thought for a moment. “How perfect,” she said, giving him one of those determined looks that meant nothing but trouble. “That way we can expect you back at a decent hour.”

Cole glared at the traitor, then realized Jamie was staring at him. He rolled his shoulder to ease the sudden kink of tension cramping his neck. “I think you’d be better off with Shane, one of our wranglers. He’s been giving the guests riding lessons and—”

“I already know how to ride.” Jamie met his eyes straight-on, giving not so much as a hint of what was going on in her head. She’d be a good poker player.

“Take Gypsy.” Rachel ignored the pointed warning he sent her with the set of his mouth, and with sheer cussedness turned to Jamie. “She’s that sweet bay mare in the first stall we passed.”

Sighing, Cole took off his hat and plowed a hand through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to be contrary, but I’ll say it plain. This isn’t a good idea.”

Her lips parted a little, her expression startled as if he’d splashed her with cold creek water, and then her long thick lashes swept the tops of her slightly flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I have no business pushing myself on you.”

“You’re not being pushy. It’s just that you’ve got plenty of time for riding, and you haven’t had a tour of the place yet.”

Jamie smiled, moved a slim shoulder. “You’re right, of course.”

Ah, hell. Better that she would’ve played coy … that he could’ve ignored. But she seemed genuinely embarrassed, which made him feel like cow manure. “Hey, if you want a ride, I’ll go saddle Gypsy for you,” he murmured, and settled his hat back on his head.

“No, Cole, really …” Jamie caught his arm.

He froze, glanced down at the slim unadorned fingers curled around his forearm. A sudden warmth flooded his chest. The reaction puzzled him. A whole passel of females had been traipsing around the ranch for the past two weeks, a lot of them prettier than her.

She slowly withdrew her hand.

“Rachel, get her a hat to protect her face and eyes.”

“I’m wearing sunscreen,” Jamie said, already starting to back up. “I have a ball cap in the room. Won’t take me but a minute to get it.”

Something about her appealed to him. Or at least she didn’t make him feel like hightailing it to the broken-down east line shack and holing up for the next week. Maybe it was her wide generous smile which seemed to come easily, or the fact that she had strong hands and sensible nails. He was a practical man. He appreciated those simple attributes in a woman.

He saw the soft heave of her high round breasts, looked into her clear hazel eyes and felt a smile tug at his mouth. She blinked, and he darted a look at his sister, who was staring at him as if he’d belched out loud in church. “What?”

As usual, Rachel wasn’t fazed by his abruptness. “Nothing.” She pressed her lips together, but that didn’t stop the corners from twitching. “I have a hat for you, Jamie. Right over here.”

Cole walked past them, his head down, wondering why the devil he’d given in. He wouldn’t get any work done because he had every intention of taking Jamie for a short ride to the foothills and then turning around in time for her to drink her margarita and eat supper with the rest of the guests. Then he’d ride back out and finish his chores. And just maybe he’d bunk in the line shack after all.

“I’VE NEVER BEEN to Montana before. It’s beautiful country.” They’d reached the edge of the high mountain meadow dotted with orange and yellow wildflowers, and Jamie wished they could stop, just for a few minutes while she soaked in the beauty of the verdant landscape.

Cole didn’t say a word. She hadn’t expected him to, nor did she expect him to stop riding. He regretted letting her come with him—that much was clear from his stony silence during the twenty-five minutes they’d been riding.

“I checked out a map before I came. The western part of the state is flat. I don’t think I’d like that much.” She glanced over at him. “Is this all McAllister land?”

“Until the other side of the meadow.”

She tugged down the borrowed brown hat, hoping to shade her eyes from the sinking sun, then squinted at the dense grove of pines climbing the mountainside. Any minute she was going to have to swallow her pride and ask him to stop. She wasn’t a bad rider but it had been a while since she’d climbed on a horse, and ogling while staying in the saddle was becoming a bit too much. Plus she was getting stiff.

A minute later he reined in his beautiful chestnut gelding, and she wanted to throw her arms around him in gratitude. But then he’d probably send her back to the ranch. She figured the best way to show her appreciation for letting her tag along was to let him have his silence. So she listened to the wind rustle the aspen leaves and inhaled the crisp air, so fresh and clean it seemed almost unnatural.

“Your nose is pink.”

“Oh.” She touched the tip, momentarily self-conscious, unaware he’d been looking at her. “That always happens, even with sunscreen. Better than freckles, I suppose.”

Their eyes met, briefly, before he found something on the side of the mountain to stare at, basically anything that wasn’t her, while he lapsed again into silence. Fine. Maybe he’d already met his word quota for the day.

She seized the chance to study his profile, guessing that he was in his early thirties. She wasn’t good at judging age to begin with, and the lines at the corners of his eyes, the groove in his cheek, all could be the result of working outdoors. Though whatever had conspired to create that face got two thumbs up from her. She liked what she saw, no doubt about that.

She didn’t even mind that he wasn’t talkative. He reminded her of the heroes in the old Westerns that she’d watched with her father. That her dad had been a sucker for a John Wayne or Gary Cooper yarn was the most human thing about him. Her mother would roll her eyes on that rare free night when he’d fix his martini, pop one of his beloved Westerns in the VHS player, and Jamie would cuddle with him on the couch, watching until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Yeah, she liked thinking about Cole as one of those Western heroes. Tall, dark, quiet. He was perfect, sitting there looking sexy with that Stetson brim pulled low. All he needed was a gun belt and a rifle to complete the picture.

Nah, she wasn’t fond of guns. Or God help her, the violent explosion of gunfire.

She closed her eyes, regretting that she’d invited the memory of that horrifying day so long ago, and lifted her face to the sun focusing on her breathing. While it had been too hot earlier, the warmth felt good now, especially with the slight breeze.

“You’re a good rider.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Why the surprise?”

His lips moved a little, probably as close to a smile as she was going to get. “Most of the guests have been beginners.”

“That has to be frustrating.”

“They’re my brother Trace’s problem.”

Jamie grinned.

“I didn’t mean that like it sounded,” he muttered, and squinted in the other direction.

She changed her mind. She didn’t want him retreating into silence again. Distraction was better. “It’s okay. I kind of get that the dude ranch thing was Rachel’s idea.” She paused. “I understand that some people around here aren’t happy about the new business.”

He turned his head sharply toward her. “Where did you hear that?”

“The gas station.”

“Billy?” he asked, frowning.

“He was trying to explain Avery’s attitude.”

“Avery Phelps.” Cole sighed and shook his head. “Nice welcome wagon.”

“Billy was adorable. Avery not so much.”

“What did the old man say to you?”

She shrugged. “I’m used to people like him. I make my living traveling. Wherever there are tourists, there will be Averys who don’t want to share.”

“It’s not about sharing. It’s about change. This is cattle country. Most folks around here want to keep it that way.”

“What about you?”

His jaw tightened. “Just trying to make a living and take care of my family.”

“You aren’t married,” she said too quickly, her gaze going to his hand even though she already knew he wore no ring.

“Nope.”

“Ever been?”

His brown eyes warmed with amusement. “Why?”

She should’ve been embarrassed. She wasn’t normally that blatantly inquisitive about a man. “I’m nosy.”

“That could get you in trouble.”

“Oh, it already has. Many times, actually. I haven’t learned my lesson.”

“I see that.”

She liked that she’d almost made him smile. “So?”

“What?”

“Ever married? Or come close?”

He hesitated. “No.”

Interesting that he’d had to think about it.

“What about you?”

She blinked, unprepared for him to turn the question around. “Not me,” she said emphatically.

“Too busy traveling?”

She shrugged a shoulder and gave him a cheeky smile. “Nobody would have me.”

“Right.” Between his murmured drawl and the lingering gaze that slowly slid away from her body, a shiver raced down her spine.

She wondered if he was aware of the message he’d just sent. She hadn’t imagined it. No way that heated look had been wishful thinking on her part. She breathed in deeply, then tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry.

“Ready to head back?” he asked.

“I thought you had work to do.”

“Not up here,” he said, lifting one brow in obvious amusement. “We irrigate the pasture when necessary.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“Thought you’d enjoy the view.”

Damn the man. Here she’d thought they were making a little headway. “You figured I couldn’t make the ride uphill and I’d beg you to take me back.”

He lifted his Stetson then resettled it on his head, his gaze trained on the horizon. “You have a mighty suspicious mind.”

She didn’t trust the slow easy smile that curved his mouth. Sure, they’d go back to the Sundance, because she was about ready to kill for a beer or margarita, but he wasn’t getting rid of her. Not this easily.

COLE DIDN’T KNOW what to make of Jamie. They hadn’t spoken much on the ride back, and he liked that she was more comfortable with silence than any woman he’d ever met. She was different in other ways, too. Nothing he could pinpoint, because he didn’t know her that well yet.

Hell, he wasn’t planning on getting to know her better. No point in it. He wasn’t that interested, and in six days she’d be gone, anyway. He’d made that mistake with his old girlfriend Bella after fooling himself into believing he knew her as well as a man could know a woman. The only thing positive he could say about the outcome was that he’d learned his lesson well. Luckily, he and Bella had worked out a comfortable arrangement and when she occasionally blew back into town for a couple of weeks, the sex was decent with no promises or expectations on either side.

So why was he thinking about Jamie Daniels at all? Why was he hanging around the west barn, catching glimpses of her mingling with the other guests, drinking margaritas and nibbling Hilda’s homemade tortilla chips and salsa?

By the time he’d brushed down and watered Gypsy, he’d told himself it was too late to return to work. A damn lie for sure. With another two and a half hours of daylight left, he could’ve replaced three T-joints before he’d called it a day.

Hearing an engine, he ducked his head out to see the sheriff’s white truck coming up the drive. Between the tinted windshield and the sun’s glare, Cole couldn’t tell if it was Noah or one of his deputies. Either way, this close to supper was an odd time for anyone to call.

He grabbed a rag to wipe his hands, and the sound of feminine laughter coming from the porch had him shaking his head. How could he have forgotten? The deputies were probably here to check out the new batch of guests who’d arrived today. Yep, he thought, sighing, the Sundance was starting to be a mighty busy place.

About to go back inside the barn, he was surprised to see Noah climb out of the truck. They’d been friends since before either one of them could tie their shoes, and Cole knew damn well Noah hadn’t made a special trip to check out the women. He wore his customary jeans and tan uniform shirt. Had to still be working.

Noah spotted him, tugged down his brown Stetson, his attention on the gravel under his boots as he headed toward the barn.

“Hey, Sheriff Calder.” Rachel called to him from the porch, waving to get his attention.

“Evenin’, Rachel.” Noah glanced her way, gave her a polite nod, then set his sights on Cole.

“Would you like to join us for a nice cold beer?”

“Thanks, but I’m on duty.”

“We have iced tea,” Rachel shouted. “Hilda made fresh salsa. Thick and spicy the way you like it.”

Noah gave her a strained smile and a small shake of his head.

Chuckling, Cole watched a dozen women track his progress. A few were sitting on the rockers and the swing, but most of them stood at the railing, staring and showing their teeth. It might’ve looked like a Tupperware party except women around these parts tended not to run around half-naked, getting sunburned and wearing impractical high-heeled sandals.

As soon as Noah was close enough, he gestured with his eyes for them to meet inside the barn.

Try as he might to resist, Cole slid a parting glance toward Jamie. She wasn’t watching Noah. Her gaze was on Cole. He pretended not to notice and waited inside.

His friend followed him with a scowl on his face.

“What? You don’t like being eyed like a side of prime Angus?” Cole laughed at the hand gesture. “I heard they’re partial to a man in uniform.”

Noah snorted. “What the hell are you hanging around for? Didn’t figure I’d catch you here.”

Cole shrugged. “I took one of the new guests for a ride up to Big Jim Flats and just brought her back.”

“You?” Noah’s tanned face creased in surprise. “Which one?”

“What difference does it make?” Cole grabbed the pitchfork he’d been using and irritably stuck it in the hay. “It was a favor to Rachel.”

“Could’ve sworn you said you were staying out of the business.”

“You drove all the way out here to be a pain in my ass?”

Noah smiled, and from his position in the shadows of the barn door, ducked to get an undetected look at the porch. “I bet it was the blonde in the white shorts.”

“Care to lay down a hundred on that?”

Noah eyed him with new interest, then went back to studying the assortment of ladies. “Can’t be the one in the jeans.”

Cole thought for a moment. Jamie was the only guest with the good sense to be wearing the appropriate clothes. “Where?”

“Right there. Dark blond hair. Real cute. Got a bum leg.”

Cole shouldered his friend aside. Jamie’s hair was dark blond but there was nothing wrong with her leg. He would’ve noticed. “Who are you talking about?”

“She just sat down next to Rachel, but she’s got a bad limp. Hope she didn’t get hurt on your property.”

“Jamie hadn’t been limping,” he murmured, half to himself. “Are you sure?”

“Jamie?”

Cole watched her grimace as she leaned over to take a beer off the tray Hilda had carried out. Rachel patted her arm with concern. Jamie shook her head, and gave a strained smile.

“Christ almighty.” Cole sighed heavily. He understood the problem now, and he was mainly to blame.

Noah gave him a long measuring look. “What’s wrong?”

The guy was more than a good friend, he was like a brother, but Cole wasn’t in the mood to discuss Jamie with him, or anyone. Fortunately, Trace chose the perfect time to step out of the house and onto the porch. He’d changed into clean jeans and his hair was damp from a shower.

Snorting, Cole motioned with his chin. “Look at that.”

Noah chuckled. “Maybe you can get stud fees for the kid.”

“That’s a thought.” Cole grunted. “Hell, might be the only way I’d get a decent day’s work out of him. Ever since the women got here he’s been doing nothing but preening like a rooster.”

They both watched Trace shamelessly flirt with the guests. The women swarmed to him like hummingbirds to nectar. Not Jamie, though. She stayed where she was, talking to Rachel, occasionally laughing at something someone said. When she glanced toward the barn, Cole turned away.

“You really on duty?” he asked Noah.

“Yeah.” Noah took off his hat and slapped it against the front of his thigh sending dust particles in the air. “Got a call from Mrs. Clements. Claims someone stole one of her four-wheelers.”

“Can’t be right.” There hadn’t been a theft in Salinas County for as long as Cole could recall. “The old woman has so much junk on her property, she probably misplaced it.”

“That’s my way of thinking. Naturally Avery had to stick his nose in, jabbering on about how this is what happens when you bring in outsiders.”

Cole stared at his friend. “You think one of the … Is that why you’re here?”

“You know me better than that, McAllister.” Noah sighed. “I figured I’d ask around, see if anyone’s noticed if things have gone missing.”

He shook his head. “The men would’ve mentioned it.”

“I expect it’ll turn out to be nothing, just like you said, probably misplaced. But the truth is, these are hard times. We don’t like to think our neighbors would resort to stealing, but a lot of men are out of work and they’ve got kids to feed. They see an elderly widow hoarding stuff she doesn’t use—” Noah shrugged, his expression grim. “Who’s to say …?”