Читать книгу Harlequin Superromance September 2017 Box Set - Jeannie Watt, Janet Lee Nye - Страница 21

CHAPTER TEN

“I’M NOT A farm girl.”

Max opened his green eyes, gave her the kitty equivalent of a scowl from where he lay on his back in the middle of the bed, and then he closed his eyes again and let out a tired kitty sigh.

“Right.” Taylor sat down on the bed and started untying her poor beat-up running shoes. Even her cat agreed. Not a farm girl. Although the tractor was a lot of fun.

She kicked off her shoes, then rubbed a hand over the back of her neck, which wasn’t stiff at all. The day in the tractor might not have taken a toll physically, but she was tired—tired in a way she’d never been after a day at the office.

So, what was the difference?

Maybe it was that she didn’t have the gnawing sense she hadn’t done enough that day?

And her back wasn’t aching. Taylor’s back was her stress barometer. High stress equaled tight muscles, which meant she could sit for only so long, yet today she’d sat for the entire day without a twinge.

Okay…score two points for farmwork, but she didn’t see the score getting much higher. The pay was low and the benefits were nonexistent…unless one counted watching a great-looking guy do his thing with chains and posts.

But that wouldn’t pay a hospital claim.

“One has to work in a realm of reality,” she said to Max, who didn’t bother to respond, or even open his eyes. He’d never been much of a conversationalist. “It’s not bad doing this stuff, but in reality, do I belong here? No. Does Cole want me here?”

She didn’t bother to answer the obvious, but instead got to her feet and went to the old refrigerator to see what she could nuke for dinner.

Her choices were macaroni and cheese or macaroni and cheese.

She was going to have to go shopping soon. If she were in Seattle, she could have popped down the street for a slice of pizza. It would have filled her belly without breaking the bank. Then she could have gone home, put on some jazz, opened a bottle of wine…

Yes, she was a city girl.

With a tight back and a sore neck.

But no dirt on her hands and in her hair.

She pulled out the frozen container of cheese and pasta and peeled off the wrapper, then opened a bottle of wine. She didn’t know if red was the best choice for budget fare, but it was what she had and, better yet, what she liked.

It also made her sleepy. She managed a quick shower, then lay down on her bed, intending to read. Instead she conked out.

She wasn’t certain what brought her awake, but it was something other than the usual thumping and bumping from below. She sat up, causing the book she’d been reading to slip onto the floor, startling her.

Taylor closed her eyes as she waited for her heart to stop racing, then reached down to lay a hand on Max, who’d barely stirred. Whatever had awoken her hadn’t disturbed him, meaning no marauding mice or rats had broken through her patch job—which also meant it was safe to put her feet down.

She crossed to the window and pushed aside the droopy curtain. The driveway, the yard, Cole’s house—everything appeared as it should be. A bluish light came through Cole’s closed curtains. He was still up, watching television? Of course he was. The glowing clock next to her bed read ten thirty.

She heard the sound again—a distant, hollow thudding, which Cole probably couldn’t hear over the television. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a normal farm sound, or wind in the pines.

Taylor dropped the curtain and made her way to the door, where she slid her feet into her running shoes and pulled her hooded sweatshirt off the hook. She slipped outside and quietly closed the door, then stopped and listened. The noises were coming from the calf pen—the thuds of running feet on soft dirt. She was about to head across the driveway to alert Cole to the situation when she heard the growl. Not a threatening wolf growl, but a higher-pitched yappy dog growl.

What the…?

The next growl was followed by a yip. Or rather a yap.

Taylor shifted course and headed directly to the calf pen. Unless coyotes now sounded like poodles, she felt confident she could handle whatever it was that was stampeding her calves.

“Whatever it was” turned out to be a streak of white darting in and out of the calves’ legs, then shooting back under the fence before darting back in again.

“Hey!”

The small dog froze middash, then pivoted and zipped past Taylor, making a beeline for the grain shed, where it disappeared under the building through a small hole near the door.

“Great,” Taylor muttered. She had a feeling that as soon as she went back to bed, the dog would start harassing the calves again. She bent down at the hole, wishing she had a flashlight.

“Hey, puppy. Come on. Come on…”

There was no sign of movement under the shed.

Taylor let out a breath and tried again. “Come on, sweetie. Come on out.”

Behind her she heard Cole’s door open and shut again. Excellent. Reinforcements. She sat back on her heels as Cole approached, the light in his hand bobbing with his limp.

“I kind of hate to ask…” he said as he approached.

“A dog was bothering the calves.”

“White fluffy dog?”

“That’s the one.”

He let out a breath and pushed a hand through his hair. “Mrs. Clovendale’s sister is visiting again. Did you see a black-and-white collie?”

“No.”

“She’s the brains of the outfit. Probably on her way home right now. They’ve been here a couple of times before, but I didn’t have animals then. She always takes off when she sees me and the poodle hides.” Cole awkwardly bent down, accommodating his bad knee. He leaned toward the opening. “Come on, Chucky.”

A whimper sounded from the depths of the foundation.

“Chuck, Chuck, Chucky.”

Taylor pressed her lips together as she felt a laugh start to bubble up. “Chuck, Chuck, Chucky?”

“It works,” Cole muttered, shifting his knee to a new position that looked just as uncomfortable as the old.

Taylor said nothing and, sure enough, on the fourth Chuck-Chuck-Chucky, the little dog crawled out from under the building on his belly and looked up at Cole with soulful brown eyes. Cole scooped the dog up with his good hand, tried to push up to his feet with the other and almost fell over in the process. Taylor took hold of his arm to steady him as he regained his balance, swallowing drily as his hard muscles flexed beneath her palm. As soon as he was on his feet she let go.

“Thanks.” He held out the dog. “You want to keep him until morning?”

“Are you kidding?” she asked, ruffling the silky curls behind the dog’s ear. “Max will eat him.”

“Probably so.” He cradled the poodle against his chest.

“Although… I could probably keep him safe from Max if you didn’t want a roommate tonight.” He gave her a quizzical look, and she shrugged. “I like dogs.”

“Me, too.”

“Hey. Something in common.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sound so thrilled.” She reached for the poodle, and he relinquished his hold. The little dog pressed his warm little body into her. He was panting hard from his evening’s work.

A grudging smile lifted the corners of Cole’s mouth. “I’ll call Mrs. Clovendale in the morning. Deliver Chucky back home when I make my grocery run.”

“Maybe you’d better take him,” Taylor said. “I don’t want Max’s feelings to be hurt.”

“Sure. We can finish watching The Caine Mutiny together.”

“I love that movie.”

Cole gave her a sideways look. “I got it out of Karl’s DVD collection.”

“If you look in his VHS collection, you’ll find it there, too. We watched it at least once a summer. I have no idea why I like it so much, but I do.” And she halfway wished he would invite her to watch the movie with him, even though for reasons of sanity, she would say no.

They were almost to the bunkhouse when Cole stopped walking. “Name your five favorite classic movies of all time.”

“Classic meaning…?”

“Before the year 2000.”

Taylor lifted her chin, squeezed her eyes shut. “Tough one. Uh… Anything with Rodney Dangerfield. Wizard of Oz. The Right Stuff. Goodfellas. The Caine Mutiny. The Thin Man.” She opened her eyes. “Did I pass the test?”

“Not the math portion. That’s six.”

“Eighteen if you count all the Rodneys.”

“Yet you’re in finance. I think I’m starting to see the problem.”

Taylor’s lips twitched despite herself. “Careful, Mr. Bryan.”

He smiled that devastating smile of his—the one she didn’t see very often, and almost wished she wasn’t seeing now. “Couldn’t resist.”

She cocked her chin sideways. “I was good at my job.” It was important to her that he know that.

“I believe you.” He sounded sincere.

“Why?”

“I read about the professional papers you wrote and the industry award.” Taylor gave him a thoughtful look, which he met without one trace of apology. “Long evenings. I also research weed control.”

“Ah.” One corner of her mouth crooked up. “So I shouldn’t read anything into the research?”

“I’m just curious about my tenant.”

“Do you feel as if you’ve learned everything you need to know?”

“Now that I know about your predilection for Rodney Dangerfield movies, I think I’m good.” His hand stroked over the poodle’s back, and Taylor focused on the movement rather than meeting his eyes. A crackling tension was building between them—one that had nothing to do with online searches and comedy movies. It was Cole who broke the tension by reaching out for the poodle. “Thanks for watching out for the calves.”

“Oh, I’ll take on a marauding poodle any time of the day or night.”

“Good to know. Consider yourself on call until Mrs. Clovendale’s sister goes home again.”

* * *

SHE LIKED RODNEY DANGERFIELD.

That spelled trouble.

He’d asked about movies hoping she’d spout off the names of some foreign films, or say she never watched old movies anymore. No such luck. They both liked dogs. They both liked classic movies…and she did have okay taste in that area, although he’d never been a fan of The Wizard of Oz. Those flying monkeys still freaked him out.

They had a few things in common. She wasn’t exactly what he thought she was. So what?

Cole leaned his head back against the sofa cushions and idly stroked the dog, who was now snoring on his lap. A half hour ago, he’d swapped out The Caine Mutiny for Caddyshack, which he watched on mute. He didn’t need sound, because he’d seen it so many times.

And he could probably be sitting here with Taylor right now, enjoying the movie, which could lead to…trouble.

He didn’t see any way around it. If he pursued things with Taylor, then he would be pitting his new livelihood against an awakening interest in a woman whom he didn’t want to be interested in. A woman who, by her own admission, wanted to live in an urban environment. A woman who would complicate his life just when he was starting to get it sorted out. Did he want complications?

No.

But that didn’t keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Taylor was cool and controlled in bed. Business Taylor? Or did she let go, as she did when heaving a T-post through the air? Farm Taylor.

Maybe a mixture of the two? Maybe she started out businesslike and then slowly lost control.

Or maybe she took control.

That would be good.

He sucked in a sharp breath. He really needed to get laid.

Or better yet, he needed to get a grip. She was hot. He was horny. But he wasn’t sixteen. He could deal.

He needed to distance himself, get things back under control.

Yeah. While working shoulder to shoulder. No problem there. He reached for the remote, turning the sound back on in time to hear a gopher laugh like a dolphin.

The reason he’d searched online for her the second time, three nights ago, was because he was looking for reasons to squelch his burgeoning interest in her. The reason he’d confessed was because he hoped that she’d accuse him of stalking or something. She hadn’t. Probably because she’d researched him pretty carefully herself.

So what now?

Distance.

The next day, after Chucky had been returned to his owner, who proclaimed him to be a very naughty boy, Cole left the tractor parked and he and Taylor went to work sorting wood and scrap metal. In silence for the most part. By noon, they’d made some serious inroads into the junk behind the barn. Some Cole planned to sell for scrap, sinking the money back into Karl’s place. Most of it went to the dump, with Taylor driving the ton truck, since his knee still wasn’t clutch friendly. It was getting better, though.

His wrist was another story, but he had to use the hand to work. When the doctor had told him not to do anything to jar it for at least a week, he’d nodded as if he intended to follow orders. He had his own way of dealing with injuries. If it hurt, he stopped doing it. If it didn’t, or hurt only a little, he carried on.

He glanced over at Taylor as she turned onto the road leading to the landfill. Today’s load was wood, so they took the fork to the left after entering the facility. She expertly backed up to the oversize receptacle, then beat Cole around the truck to the tailgate, which she opened by hitting it in just the right place with the heel of her hand to pop the latch.

She was better at this farm stuff than she wanted to be. Maybe it was her natural-born efficiency. Maybe she couldn’t help wanting to be the best at whatever she did.

Again, sex came to mind, and again, he shoved the thought aside.

Taylor started tossing wood out of the truck with a vengeance, and Cole stepped forward to help.

“Do any of these have names?” he asked as a split plank sailed past him.

She hurled another broken plank through the air. “I could go through the mean girls in high school.”

Cole pulled a splintered piece of lodge pole free. “Where did you fit in the social hierarchy?”

Taylor stopped and brushed the back of her glove over her forehead. “Are you asking if I was a mean girl?”

“Were you?”

She straightened and drilled him with a hard look that made him feel slightly ashamed, even if he had good reason to ask. He was attempting to distance himself—or better yet, to have her distance herself from him. “I wasn’t mean. I was confident. How about you?”

“Wildly popular.” Right. Cowboy geeks were never wildly popular. He tossed a piece of wood underhanded.

Her gaze never wavered. “I’ll bet you were. And that was an asshole question you asked me.”

Cole didn’t argue with her. It had been. “Just trying to get a handle.”

“By asking if I was mean?”

He bent to pick up another piece of rotten board. “All I was asking is if you were one of the school elite.”

“I don’t think you were.” The words were cool, a statement of fact he couldn’t deny.

“Maybe we should drop this subject.”

She hurled a piece of wood with rather impressive force, making him wonder if his name was on that one. “Yes. Maybe we should.”

Taylor didn’t talk as she drove back to the farm. She focused on the road with an intensity that told Cole that he might have his wish. She might back totally away from him, and all it had taken was his acting like an ass.

Did he regret it?

He told himself no. He needed to focus on his livelihood. And what if Karl was the old-fashioned sort who didn’t like his tenant screwing around with his granddaughter?

Not likely, but there was always a possibility.

After returning to the farm, they broke for lunch, heading off to their respective abodes. Cole made himself a sandwich, leaning back against his counter to eat as he wondered how the afternoon would play out. Until he’d asked about her place in high school society, there’d been a sense of something simmering just below the surface, ready to break out.

Hopefully he’d taken care of that.

Taylor was already sorting through debris when he walked around the barn, pulling a glove onto his good hand. He dived in, pulling bent rebar out of a stack of pipe and metal rails. They worked for most of the afternoon with next to no conversation.

It was not a comfortable silence.

Taylor worked methodically, seemingly lost in thought, but the few times they’d reached for the same piece of debris, she’d pulled her hand back as if not wanting to chance touching him.

And since that was what he wanted, it made no sense that he was so stupidly aware of her. Taylor was a hard worker. She may not like farmwork, she may still believe that clearing the boneyard was busywork, but she was now committed to the task.

And maybe he’d made his point about working her ass off. Did he really want to spend time like this, working next to a woman he would be better off avoiding? There were things they could each do alone.

The stack of pipe shifted, and Taylor let out a yelp as the fingers of her glove got trapped. She yanked her hand free of her glove, which dangled from where it was caught between two pieces of rusting metal.

“Son of a—”

“Are you okay?”

Taylor frowned at him before working her glove free. “Fine.” She rubbed her thumb over her forefinger, which must have gotten pinched, then slipped the glove back on and went to work again.

Cole moved farther away. Working next to her was driving him kind of crazy—because he wasn’t being honest about this whole situation.

Maybe he needed to say, “Hey, what should we do about this mutual attraction that won’t be good for either of us?” Then Taylor could come up with some parameters and goals and they could deal. Together.

Yeah, right.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he stepped down off the pile of debris he was sorting through to answer.

“Hey, Jance. What’s up?” Nothing bad, he hoped, but Jancey didn’t usually call to shoot the breeze.

“I just wanted to touch base.”

“Yeah?” he asked gently, staring off over his fields as he held the phone to his ear, yet totally aware of the woman still working behind him.

“Yeah.” She fell into silence, and he waited. “I was wondering…since you’ve left and stuff…do you feel differently about the ranch?”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Oh…I’ve just been thinking a lot. Now that I’m about to leave the place.”

“I love the ranch. I don’t think anything will change that.” He paced away from the debris piles toward the barn. If he was going to have to talk his sister down, he wanted to do it in private.

“So you’d never sell. Right?”

He made a sputtering noise. “No.” He’d never sell because Miranda would somehow end up with the entire place, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. And because it was his and Jancey’s birthright. Their family settled that land, and it would damn well stay in the family.

Jancey let out a small breath. “That’s what I thought. I’m just feeling kind of unsettled, you know?”

“That’s normal when you’re about to leave home for the first time.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Do you want me to come out to the ranch for a while?”

“No. I’m good. I just… I guess I wanted to be reassured that after I left I wouldn’t feel differently.”

“You might, Jance. I won’t lie. But I don’t.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Thanks, Cole. I feel better.”

“Good. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive out?”

“No. Really. I’m doing great. How are my babies?”

Cole smiled. “Your babies are greedy eaters. They’re gaining weight fast.”

“Good to know. I’ll try to get in to see them—and you—soon.”

“You do that, kid. And call anytime you’re feeling unsettled. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He dropped his phone back into his pocket as he strode back toward the pile. Taylor didn’t even glance his way as he went back to work. Maybe he did need to take a drive to the ranch soon. Going back invariably stressed him out, but he needed to keep tabs. Make sure that Miranda was minding her p’s and q’s.

“Why’d you leave your ranch job if you owned the ranch?”

The question came out of the blue, startling him after a day of silence. Cole carefully set the pipe he’d just extracted onto the salvage pile. “I quit because I didn’t like my boss. And I only own part of the operation.”

“Do you miss it?” Taylor put a hand on her hip, and Cole couldn’t help but follow the movement before bringing his gaze back up to her face. She wore her business expression, which made him think that she fully intended to get answers. So much for distance.

“I don’t miss what it became.” He went back to sorting the pipe. Taylor didn’t move. He didn’t look at her.

“Is the subject off-limits?”

“Pretty much.”

“Because you’re private, or because it’s me?”

“Private.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nothing personal, Taylor.”

“Right.”

He gave a small snort. He wasn’t lying. “I don’t discuss the ranch.”

“Maybe you should start.”

“Because?”

“You bottle things up and they come out in weird ways.”

“I’ll take the chance.” Because the thought of opening up to…well, anyone, really…made him freeze. Telling the truth about his family…he hated what the ranch had become and hated that he no longer felt welcome on his own property. Talking about it only twisted the knife a little more.

“It isn’t like I can use the information against you,” she continued as she went back to battling the rebar. A moment later the pieces she’d been working on slid free and she put them in the junk stack.

“I don’t like talking about it.”

“In my world, you grow a thick skin.”

“In my world, you hide your true thoughts.” In the guest ranch world anyway.

“Mine, too.”

He turned to meet her gaze. “What are your true thoughts right now?” It was almost as if he couldn’t help but edge toward trouble with this woman.

“You want the blistering truth?” she asked.

“I can take it.”

“I think you don’t want to like me. I think you’re working hard to push me away.”

Cole stilled. His first impulse was to deny it. His second was to admire her instincts. His third was to back up fast. “I have nothing against you.”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips curved into a humorless smile, telling him that she wasn’t fooled. Not even a little. “But…”

“No but.”

“Liar.” She spoke softly, holding his gaze in a way that warned him not to underestimate her. “But I’ll let it go in the name of future peaceful calf feedings and wonderful days sorting junk.” Taylor took off her gloves and uncapped the water bottle sitting on the tailgate. “I’m done for the day. I have a Skype interview in an hour.”

She started to walk away, and Cole realized that even though the sane thing would be to let her walk away, he wasn’t done.

He took hold of her arm as she went past him, and she stopped, her gaze slowly coming up to meet his. “You’re right,” he said.

“I know.” Her voice was low and husky. It made him think of sex, although he didn’t think that was her intention. Didn’t matter. It came off that way.

“Getting closer will complicate things.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” She spoke softly as her gaze moved down to his lips and held. “But you don’t have to be a jerk to me. Just…talk.”

He pulled in a breath. Her muscles were taut beneath his grip, light as it was. She could have easily moved away, but she didn’t. She finally pulled her gaze from his mouth, her expression shifting ever so slightly as she met his eyes, then reached up to touch his face as he’d touched hers in the SUV the day she’d taken him to the doctor. Her fingers moved over his cheekbone, trailed down his jaw, brushed lightly over his lips, making his nerves sing and his dick jump.

She leaned closer. “If we kiss—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish the sentence, didn’t wait for her to set goals or outline parameters. He made the if a reality, releasing her arm and sliding his hand around the back of her neck as he brought his mouth down to hers.

Taylor gasped against his lips, even though she’d known the kiss was coming—maybe because she felt the same surge of raw need that he did as their mouths melded together and their tongues met. And what should have been a test-the-waters kiss became a long, deep exploratory kiss. One that had the blood pounding in his veins and his hands skimming over her body before he pulled her more tightly against him. He raised his head briefly, then went back for more. Taylor met him halfway as reality blurred. Dynamite in his hands.

When he raised his head for the second time, Taylor’s lips clung to his and her eyes remained closed, as if she were savoring, keeping the moment for as long as she could. When she opened her eyes, she stepped back, putting space between them that seemed more like a chasm than a few feet of gravel. A slight frown drew her brows together as she lightly pressed her fingers against her lips, as if checking for damage, which only made him want to kiss her again.

“Aren’t you going to say that you didn’t see that coming?” she asked in a low voice.

He shook his head. Kissing Taylor had been inevitable. Like it or not, even when he’d thought she was a princess through and through, he’d been drawn to her. At first, he’d assumed it was wanting what was off-limits. Now he knew what he felt toward her was more complex, harder to define. Troublesome.

“No. That was the reason I was trying to push you away.”

“Well,” she said, wiping her hands down the sides of her jeans, as if she’d just finished a tough job, “you should have worked harder at that.”

“It was the thick skin you mentioned. Things seem to bounce off you.”

“At least it appears that way,” she said before clearing her throat. “I have to do my networking.”

Of course she did. Kiss and move on.

But Cole didn’t see this being a done deal. He couldn’t help but think that it was a good thing she was going…and that working with her was going to be a hell of a lot more interesting.