Читать книгу The Marriage Stampede - Julianna Morris, Julianna Morris - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“How often do you do this?”

Merrie glanced at Logan Kincaid, sitting next to her in the small Cessna. He’d stared ahead with his jaw and fingers clenched during the entire flight. It was hard not to take his jitters personally. He obviously didn’t have a lot of confidence in female pilots...or at least in this female pilot. From the moment they’d gotten to the private airstrip in Rapid City he’d been full of excuses why they shouldn’t fly the second leg to the ranch.

“Do what?” She adjusted a dial and pretended to be confused by the blinking lights on the instrument panel. The plane was registered to the ranch, but she was the only member of the family with a pilot’s license, so it was available whenever she wanted.

“Fly,” he muttered. Logan peered out the window and Merrie waggled the wings out of pure irritation. He took one look at her hostile expression and made an obvious effort to relax.

“Once in a while,” she said, intentionally sounding vague. “But it’s an expensive hobby, and I’ve been saving my money.”

“Uh...yeah. To buy the ranch. A teacher doesn’t earn that much. Saving must be hard.”

The observation surprised Merrie, because she hadn’t thought he’d actually listened during their conversation about marriage lists and husbands and wives, and dreams for the future.

“You’d be surprised,” Merrie murmured. “I tutor students at night and I don’t pay rent because I live in an apartment over my mom and dad’s garage. And I earn a lot every summer working as a wrangler. I’m hoping my grandfather will be impressed by a big down payment.”

Logan shifted in the cramped seat. “How did you learn to fly?”

Her mouth tightened in disgust. “It was Granddad’s idea. He paid for the lessons, hoping I’d forget about wanting the ranch. He sure doesn’t know much about women. But he got his money’s worth, because there are a lot of tourists who don’t want to drive from Rapid City. They pay well, and that way we have the plane for emergencies.”

Logan shifted again, banging his elbow on the cockpit door. Merrie hid a smile; the compact Cessna wasn’t designed for a man with such long legs and broad shoulders.

“Was that before or after he assigned you to the cookhouse?”

“After. Granddad had got a little more subtle by the time I turned eighteen. He graduated from blustery commands to bribery. It didn’t work, but I took the lessons because I could see how handy they’d be out here.”

The radio crackled and Merrie exchanged a few words with a ham operator. Seeing the familiar landmarks, she turned into the approach for the private airfield on the Bar Nothing Ranch. Kincaid tensed again as they descended and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m very good,” she said pointedly. “Even Granddad flies with me.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Huh. Do you want to circle the ranch to see it, or go straight in?”

“Straight in. Er...down.”

“Tough guy,” Merrie muttered. The wheels touched down and she taxied to a comfortable spot near a waiting pickup. A cowboy sat slouched in the driver’s side, his hat tipped over his eyes. Probably Chip Packwood—he could sleep through anything. “We’re here,” she said unnecessarily.

“Yeah.” Secretly impressed, Logan glanced around at the rolling, tree-studded hills, all golden in the long rays of afternoon light. The small airfield was meticulously maintained. On one side stood a fuel tank next to a sturdy building, with Bar Nothing Ranch lettered neatly on its side. However chauvinistic, Merrie’s grandfather seemed to be a fine manager.

“You haven’t said much,” Merrie said, flicking switches and unfastening her belt.

He glanced back at her and shook his head. “I’ve been catching my breath. You’re sort of like a tidal wave. I haven’t had a peaceful moment in the past twenty-four hours.”

Her green eyes flashed with irritation. “You didn’t have to come.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He didn’t want to admit he’d enjoyed being caught up in Merrie’s headlong rush. He had the feeling she swept everyone along with her enthusiasm. The students she taught. Ranch guests. Everyone. In her own unique way, she was irresistible.

Uh-oh.

Logan took a deep breath. Irresistible wasn’t a good word to attach to a woman, especially Merrie. Irresistible suggested acceptance and commitment. Even if he wanted to get married, it wouldn’t be to someone so intense. Still...it might be interesting getting to know her.

“I’m here now, so I may as well make the best of things.” he said casually. “How do I get the door open?”.

“It’s easy, like this.” Merrie leaned across him and felt for the latch on the door. Logan immediately put his hand on her waist and grinned at the startled surprise in her face.

“Nice view,” he drawled, his gaze flicking over the shadowed opening of her plaid shirt. She’d undone the top few buttons after they’d left Rapid City, saying it took a while to acclimatize to the heat of Montana after rainy Seattle. “Of course, it would be even better without the shirt...I should know.”

“Fink,” she growled, withdrawing immediately to her own side of the plane.

“For shame, you ought to be more polite to the paying guests.”

“For your information, wrangler isn’t spelled h-o-o-k-e-r,” she snapped. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Logan said mildly. “You’re awfully touchy about sex. It makes a guy wonder...are you a virgin?”

A brief flare of color hit Merrie’s cheeks. “That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed.

His eyes widened. He’d just been teasing, but something in the tone of her voice and the instant flush made him wonder. “Uh, how old are you?”

“Never mind that.”

Logan rubbed his forehead. In her tight jeans, Merrie looked like a sexy college freshman, yet she had to be older. And if she was still a virgin...he felt embarrassed and hot and hungry, all at the same time. “How old, Merrie?”

“All right. Twenty-nine.” She fidgeted with the belt snapped across her waist. “Actually I’ll be thirty next week.” The gloomy emphasis she placed on the word thirty made him grin.

“Hey, I’m thirty-six,” he said. “It’s great to be thirty. People don’t treat you like a kid anymore.”

“You wouldn’t understand, you’re a man.”

Oh. Logan nodded his head. He’d heard this argument before. “Let’s see...the biological clock? Aren’t you about ten years too early to be stressing out about it?”

“That isn’t it at all. Well...maybe a little bit,” Merrie qualified. “But you don’t have to worry about being too old to have babies and making a success of yourself all at the same time.”

Logan had heard this one, too—how men could put off getting married and starting a family, so they couldn’t understand how hard it was for a woman. “Since I don’t plan on having kids, that isn’t much of a problem,” he remarked.

“Yeah, but you have loads of time to change your mind.” Merrie chewed on her bottom lip. “It isn’t turning thirty, it’s not...” Her voice trailed and she smiled brightly, determinedly. “Never mind. Everything’s going to work out. I’ve got a plan.”

He lightly tugged a lock of her cinnamon hair. It wasn’t his concern, but he felt an affinity with her. They both had big plans for the future.

“Let’s see,” he said. “You’re twenty-nine. You want to buy your family ranch. You want kids, which presumably includes a husband in the equation. And you’re a virgin.”

“I’m not...huh.” Merrie crossed her arms over her stomach and scowled. “That’s none of your business.”

“I think your plan needs some tinkering.” Logan leaned closer and caressed the curve of her neck. She swatted his hand but he didn’t move.

“I’m not tinkering with you, so forget it. And my virginity—or lack of it,” she added hastily, “is my own concern. Check out the other guests if you’re that desperate. We usually have a couple of single women.”

“I’m not desperate. And how do you know I wasn’t talking about something else?”

“Because men always think about sex. It’s your first, last and middle thought of the day.” Merrie shimmied away, leaning against her side of the plane and looking hopefully at the nearby truck.

Logan spared the vehicle a brief glance. The sleeping driver hadn’t moved a muscle. “No help there.”

“I could scream.”

“I don’t think you will.”

“You...you arrogant jerk,” she huffed, not looking particularly worried. “I’ll scream if I want, and Chip will beat you into a pulp. He’s very protective.”

He tried not to smile. “Chip?”

“Yeah, in the truck. You can tell by his hatband.” She wrinkled her nose, temporarily forgetting her anger. “He always keeps a strip of condoms beneath the band, and they make these round patterns in the leather. I guess he thinks it’s sexy or something, because it’s obvious what’s in there even when the edges don’t stick out.”

Logan hesitated. Merrie Foster was perfectly capable of pulling his leg, and this sounded like a Wild West tall story. “That’s an odd place to keep something like that. Surely cowboys don’t wear their hats to bed.”

She shrugged, an enigmatic smile on her mouth. “Cowboys wear their hats everywhere.”

“Oh.” Logan didn’t like the smile. “I guess ol’ Chip is protective. It sounds like he’s got lots of protection, except it isn’t the kind an innocent young thing needs to stay innocent. If you know what I mean...?”

She blinked, then laughed. “Forget it. I’m not talking. As far as the hat goes, you’ll see for yourself. This is Montana—anything can happen out here. It’s a land of individuality.”

“Right.” Logan unlatched his door and swung it open. Time for a change of subject. A safer subject. “So tell me, how did you choose teaching for a career? Ranching and teaching don’t seem compatible.”

“No, it’s perfect!” Merrie followed him out of the plane, carrying some blocks connected by ropes. “We’re really isolated on the Bar Nothing, so I can do home instruction when I have my own kids. See? It works out great.”

In a strange way, he had to agree. It also made sense that Merrie had never made time for having intimate male friends, though he didn’t think she’d admit to the fact.

He sighed, but it was a happy sigh. For someone whose vacation plans had been ruined, he wasn’t having a bad time at all. This dude ranch thing seemed to be working out better than he’d expected.

Chip the sleeping cowboy didn’t stir as Merrie placed the blocks against the plane wheels, at the same time explaining the maintenance building also included a hangar area in case of bad weather. She seemed a little nervous, which he understood. He’d really pushed her with that virgin bit. After all, a lot of men would probably consider virginity an affront, or maybe even a challenge.

Now he was different.

It wasn’t a challenge, though it made him curious.

Curious? his conscience screamed. Right. It made him...invigorated. Anyway, Merrie certainly didn’t seem virginal. She was confident and self-aware, which didn’t mean she wasn’t innocent, but it made him wonder.

“Well, if it isn’t the Red Bombshell,” a lazy voice announced.

“Hey, Chip.” Merrie waved.

The cowboy unfolded himself from the cab of the truck and ambled over to Merrie, lifting her into a huge bear hug. He then tipped her backward and planted a dramatic kiss on her lips, all without disturbing the hat perched on his head. Logan felt his eyes narrow.

“Glad to have ya back,” Chip said when he was done. “The boss sent me out to pick you up. Who’s the slicker?”

“Logan Kincaid.”

“Howdy, Kincaid.” The cowboy held out his hand, which Logan grabbed and slowly squeezed. They were about the same height and age, though Chip’s skin had clearly been weathered by a succession of long summers and harsh winters. That wasn’t all. Obvious circles were clearly visible beneath the Montanan’s hat. Sure enough, the man kept a supply of condoms, right where he could always count on finding them.