Читать книгу Shotgun Vows - Teresa Southwick, Teresa Southwick - Страница 9

Dawson helped Mattie set silverware and napkins on the table. When the microwave signaled that the food was warm, she grabbed a pot holder and took the plates to the table. They sat down at a right angle to each other, and she began to shovel food into her mouth as if she hadn’t eaten for a month.

“Where’s the fire?” he asked.

“Pardon?” she answered. Her gray eyes—very pretty eyes he couldn’t help noticing—met his gaze. Then she resumed eating.

“You’re going to have indigestion if you don’t slow down.”

“No worries. I’ve got the constitution of an elephant.”

Not exactly the way he would describe her, Dawson thought ruefully. Those legs. He would bet every last penny of his considerable annual bonus that her gams were not thick and wrinkled and gray. If they were, he was sure the knot in his gut would disappear. Considering the size of that knot, he had a heck of a nerve warning her about indigestion. Or anything else for that matter.

He wished he’d never agreed to keep an eye on her. Even Ryan had questioned his excuse for dropping over tonight, but it was the best he could come up with. He had to be here to watch her. Long-distance baby-sitting wouldn’t cut it—Dawson didn’t do anything halfway. Besides, just before he’d left, Griff had reminded him that Clint Lockhart was still loose. He had escaped from prison and eluded all law enforcement efforts. The man had sworn revenge on the Fortunes, and was slippery as an eel. He’d already killed Ryan’s second wife Sophia—who knew what he might do next?

Dawson knew that being a Fortune made Mattie vulnerable to Clint. If anything happened to her because Dawson slacked off, he wouldn’t want to face her brother. But more important, he would never forgive himself.

Suddenly Mattie put her fork down, apparently finished. She stared at him. “Are you one of those anal-retentive people who chew each bite of food twenty-seven times?”

“No,” he said, staring at her. “But I don’t swallow it whole, either.”

“Wouldn’t have figured you for a slow eater. You strike me as the kind of man who has places to go, women to meet etcetera, etcetera.”

“Nope.”

“Really?” She nervously tapped her fingers on the table. “So no one is waiting for you at home?”

“Nope. I’m all yours.”

“Until you finish your dinner.” She rolled her eyes and heaved a huge sigh before glancing at the clock on the stove. She frowned. “You want to hurry it up?”

He looked at his watch. Eight o’clock. He got the feeling she was in a rush. “You going somewhere?”

“No,” she said with a breezy nonchalance that screamed liar. “But it’s getting late. I’ve heard if you eat too much too late at night, you’ll have nightmares. Your body can turn on you if you make it digest all that food when it’s supposed to be resting. Especially when you’re advanced in years. So if I were you, I’d quit eating before you regret it.”

Since when did she care about his digestion? Not only that, but she was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. What the heck was she up to? “Come clean, Mattie. Tell me what’s going on.”

Before she could answer, Lily Fortune walked into the kitchen.

Dawson envied Ryan. Lily was a lovely woman, and Dawson was glad the two had rekindled their love, which had begun when they were teenagers.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said.

“No worries,” Mattie answered.

“You’re not interrupting,” Dawson said at the same time.

The older woman smiled at him, then Mattie. “I just wanted to let you know that Willa’s already gone upstairs, and Ryan and I are going to make an early night of it, too. But please make yourselves at home.”

Dawson nodded. “Thanks.”

“One more thing.” Lily looked from Dawson to his fidgety dinner companion. “Mattie, I just remembered something.”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow a group of schoolchildren are coming to the ranch on a field trip. I think the principal said they were eleven or twelve years old. They won a contest, and their prize is a day of horseback riding on the Double Crown.”

“Can’t think of a better reward,” Mattie answered enthusiastically.

“I have a favor to ask you. Would you supervise choosing horses for the children? You have such a way with the animals, and the kids couldn’t be in better hands than yours.”

A sweet smile transformed Mattie’s face, making her eyes glow. “I would be happy to, Aunt Lily.”

The older woman nodded approvingly. “I understand there will be four or five children. It might be best if you have one of the ranch hands assist you.”

The glow in Mattie’s eyes turned to a gleam that Dawson didn’t trust. He remembered Griff’s warning that she was looking to run off with one of the cowboys. Although she’d been working with them on the ranch for some time, Lily had just reminded him how closely. Because of his promise, it was now his problem. He could only think of one solution.

Before opening his mouth, his last thought was that this must be what it felt like to jump out of a skydiving plane. Then he said, “I would be happy to help her.”

Mattie, just sipping water, started to cough. Lily patted her on the back. “Are you all right, dear?”

Still coughing, Mattie nodded. Then she stared at him and asked, “You?”

“No, Mel Gibson,” he said, hoping to pull this off with humor. “Of course me.”

He would have to take the day off. But he’d been working a lot of hours lately, bringing Brody up to snuff on Fortune financial affairs. Dawson had earned himself a comp day. He was meeting Brody at the office in the afternoon. But he could use the morning for baby-sitting detail. To keep her away from the cowboys, he would stick to her like lint to tape.

“Really, that’s awfully nice of you.” Mattie shot him a look that made a lie of her words. It told him she wished the earth would open and swallow him up. “But one of the ranch hands would probably be more helpful.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve spent a lot of time riding with Zane. I can handle horseback riding basics for kids.”

“You don’t need me to work that out,” Lily said. “I’ll say good-night now.” She smiled at each of them. “Sleep well, you two.”

When they were alone again, Mattie said too sweetly, “Don’t you have some numbers to crunch tomorrow? Some minutiae to commit to memory?”

“It can wait.”

“You’re very generous to offer assistance. But I was thinking of asking Ethan McKenzie.”

She’d sure picked someone quick. Maybe she’d had him on her mind all along. For something of a romantic nature? Or an elopement? He couldn’t help wondering if Griff was right about her determination to run off with a cowboy. Had she already culled one from the herd, so to speak? All the more reason for Dawson to hang around. Although he had a sneaking suspicion that if he tried to cut the cowboy out completely, she would become even more determined to have him. Not only that, but it could push Dawson into a situation that would tip his hand, and she would figure out that he had promised Griff he’d guard her.

As long as Dawson was around to supervise, he didn’t much care who the unfortunate cowboy helper was. “Okay, ask Ethan. But with that many kids, you can probably use more help.”

“Probably.” She nodded. “Kids can try your patience. They’re pretty unpredictable.”

“Then you won’t mind if I hang around, too.”

She looked at him as if he had just said he planned to walk naked from San Antonio to Houston. “Very sporting of you. But I think Ethan and I can handle them. After all, we’re both still limber, and practically children ourselves.”

“True. An oldtimer like myself has brittle bones. I have to be careful not to break anything. But hasn’t anyone ever told you there’s no substitute for wisdom and experience?”

“I’ve heard that. I’ve seen you riding here on the ranch. But what experience have you had with children?”

“Not much, I’ll admit.”

“Then give me three good reasons why you would volunteer to put yourself in harm’s way with them,” she said suspiciously.

“One, maybe it’s about time I tried interacting with them. Two, I could be an uncle soon, and kids are still a real mystery to me. And reason number three—if I hang out with kids, maybe I can figure out what makes you tick,” he said, watching her face and waiting for the sparks to fly. He wasn’t disappointed.

Her gray eyes darkened with something that wasn’t quite anger, but was damn defensive. Or maybe it was a defense mechanism. “And why, pray tell, would you want to get to know me better?”

“Beats the heck out of me,” he said. “But I do.”

Oddly enough, he found that he did want to get to know her better. Something about her intrigued him. Her pride. An indomitable spirit that came through loud and clear. She was barely a woman, but he sensed a strength of character beyond her years.

She met his gaze for several moments, gauging him. Finally she said, “I have to give you points for honesty, Mr. Prescott.”

“Dawson, please. I feel old enough without you making me feel like my father.”

He winced at his own words. After the thoughts he’d had about her, he was hovering way too close to his father’s shortcomings as it was.

“All right, Dawson. It’s your funeral. But I would appreciate an extra pair of hands. Thanks,” she said grinning.

“You’re welcome, I think.”

She stood. “I’ll say good-night then.”

“Yeah. I guess it’s about that time.”

“Oh? And what time would that be?” she asked, the doubtful note in her voice causing her friendly smile to waver.

“Curfew,” he answered.

The words produced exactly the effect he’d intended. Her shoulders stiffened, her gray eyes narrowed and finally her full lips thinned. Oddly, he found himself longing to have her sunny smile back.

“I didn’t have a curfew even when I should have,” she snapped.

“Then what’s your hurry? And don’t insult my intelligence by saying ‘nothing.’”

She peeked over her shoulder as if she were trying to elude surveillance. Then she met his gaze and sighed. “All right. Griff is gone. I suppose it can’t do any harm to tell you. It’s poker night.”

Her brother was right. If she’d known he was a stand-in bodyguard, she would have shut down tighter than a convent school when the fleet was in. “Would you like to expand that explanation a tad?” he asked.

“The ranch hands play poker one evening a week. Tonight’s the night. It’s an open game. Anyone’s invited. I’ve been dying to learn, but Griff would never let me go. Now’s my chance.”

“To learn the game?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes. And get to know the guys better.”

“Guys like Ethan McKenzie?”

“Yes.”

“The game is open?” When she nodded, he said, “Then no one will mind if I tag along.”

He started to walk past her, and she grabbed his arm. “Not so fast, buster. Someone will darn well mind.”

“Who?” he asked innocently.

“For starters, me. Why would you want to play poker with a bunch of cowboys? I bet not one of them knows what a tilde is.”

“Could be I just want to play poker.”

“Yeah, and it could be I’m a high-priced fashion model,” she said sarcastically. “Why in the world would you want to spend the evening with a bunch of ranch hands?”

“Like I said before, we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other since you’ve been here. This is as good a time as any.”

“For whom?” she asked.

“For me. After all, if I’m going to help you with the kids tomorrow, it seems to me that we would be a more efficient team if we knew each other better.”

“We’re not a team.”

“We will be.”

“When snowballs survive in hell,” she said.

He ignored her remark and said wistfully, “It’s been a long time since I’ve played poker.”

“Why?” She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “Don’t you have any friends of your own?”

“Of course I have friends. What would make you ask that?”

“Now that Zane and Gwen are married, you must be pretty lonesome.” She gave him an impertinent look.

She thought he needed to make friends? She actually thought Zane Fortune was his only friend? She couldn’t genuinely believe that he had no one to hang out with. He cringed at the idea. When Griff got back, they were going to have a long talk about indebtedness. This favor was getting more complicated all the time.

And on top of her zingers, she was actually starting to appeal to him.

“No, I’m not lonesome. I have my spreadsheets to keep me warm,” he said. Not to mention thoughts of her long legs…. That image made him hot all over. “I just like to play cards. Okay?” he asked more abrasively than he had intended.

“Even if I’m there?”

Especially if you’re there and your brother isn’t, he thought. “How can you ask that?” Before she could answer he took her arm and said, “Let’s go, Mattie. Seven card stud awaits.”

“Huh?”

“No worries,” he said, imitating her. “You’ll find out.”

But he didn’t miss the gleam in her eyes at the word stud.

The ranch hands lived in a bunkhouse about three-quarters of a mile from the main house. With Griff around, she’d never had a chance to see the inside. But she’d heard the guys talking, and knew it was Ethan and Bobby Lee’s turn to host tonight’s poker game. Mattie wanted to jump into the truck she used to get herself around the ranch, but Dawson insisted on walking. It seemed odd to her, since there was a chill November wind blowing. But then, it seemed odd that he was with her at all.

She’d been half joking when she’d said it, but maybe he really didn’t have any friends. That, along with the fact that he was cooped up inside far too much, pushing around all those numbers, made her feel kind of sorry for him. It could explain why he wanted to hoof it to the bunkhouse. He must have a fresh air deficiency.

It wasn’t easy keeping up with his long stride. She was slightly winded by the time they stepped onto the wooden bunkhouse porch. Low voices drifted to them from inside. Now that she was here, Mattie was a little nervous. She was almost grateful that Dawson was with her so she didn’t have to walk in alone. It was a bit like going to a school dance with one of her brothers, except that Dawson Prescott would mind his own business and not hers once they were inside. Anticipation chased away her nerves.

She was about to knock, then glanced at him. The light next to the door picked up the angles of his face, making it look rugged and very masculine. And quite attractive. Her heart gave a strange little lurch. When she spoke, her voice was slightly breathless. From their sprint over here, no doubt, she thought. Because she couldn’t believe that he was starting to look good to her.

“You don’t have to do this if you’re tired,” she told him.

“On the contrary. I’m looking forward to it.” He looked at her uncertainly. “I should warn you about something.”

“What?” she asked.

“Cowboys don’t like to play cards with a woman.”

She gaped at him for a moment, then shook her head. “Surely you can do better than that, Dawson.”

He was trying to talk her out of playing. Why? More importantly, why had he suddenly agreed to accompany her? She’d been on the Double Crown for several months, and they’d had little contact. When he’d first suggested coming with her to the game, she’d wondered if, possibly, he was intimidated by Griff and was taking advantage of the fact that her brother was gone to hang out with her. Now she knew she’d been wrong. He was trying to get rid of her. But Matilda Fortune didn’t scare easy.

“Seriously, Mattie. Cowboys are superstitious. They think it’s bad luck to deal a woman in.”

“Then why did they invite me?” She tried to keep her voice level and pleasant. Not easy when she wanted to bop him.

“They’re superstitious and polite.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

“It’s your funeral,” he said. He shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets, lifting his suit jacket.

It was a blatantly masculine pose in spite of his sissy suit. That made her wonder what he would look like dressed in jeans and boots, like a cowboy. She had a feeling the image would give her no peace of mind.

“Okay,” she answered with an emphatic nod, then rapped on the door.

“Come in.” That was Bobby Lee’s voice.

Mattie turned the knob and pushed the door inward. She was surprised to see that only three cowboys were there. Ethan and Bobby Lee who shared the cabin, and Burch Picket, a hand who had been hired around the time she’d arrived. They looked up from their cards when Mattie walked in.

She had a quick impression of wooden floors and several bunks. In the corner, there were couches and a couple of chairs in front of a television. The other corner held a small kitchen complete with refrigerator and stove. There was an empty space in the middle because they’d pulled the table into the cabin’s main room for the game.

Her gaze rested on dark-haired, brown-eyed Ethan. She knew he was right around her own age, but he looked about seventeen. Even his sunburned face didn’t hide the fact that he’d hardly started shaving yet. She thought he was cute, but was vaguely disturbed that being in the same room with him didn’t produce any sort of physical response on her part. Not the way being around Dawson did. But that probably had something to do with how angry she’d been the first time she met him, and how he baited her every time he opened his mouth. Ethan seemed like a sweetie, and she just had to get to know him better.

“Hi, guys,” she said, greeting all the men.

“What are you doing here, Mattie?” Bobby Lee didn’t look too happy. The blond, blue-eyed cowboy’s frown was a big clue.

Her heart fell. That wasn’t exactly the greeting she’d been hoping for. “It’s poker night,” she said lamely.

“Yeah.” Ethan threw his cards down. “But we didn’t think you would—”

“Howdy, stranger.” Bobby Lee smiled slowly and stood up, walking toward her. “Been a long time.”

“Not that long,” she said, confused.

Then she shivered as she felt him behind her. She’d momentarily forgotten. Dawson. He was so close, and the heat of his body warmed her clear down to her toes. The scent of his cologne tied her stomach in knots. Her heart skipped a beat, kicking her confusion up a notch.

“Yeah, it has been a long time,” Dawson answered, reaching out to shake hands with him.

Ethan joined them, just inside the door. “Good to see you,” the young cowboy said.

“Goes for me, too. We haven’t seen much of you since Zane got married and you quit hanging out here with him.” Bobby Lee chimed in. “Dawson, you know Burch Pickett, right?”

“We’ve met,” he said.

The man nodded. “Howdy.”

“Ethan, pull up a chair for Dawson.”

“What about me?” Mattie asked, hands on her hips.

“Oh, Mattie,” Bobby Lee said. There was less warmth in his voice than when he’d greeted Dawson. “I figured you just brought Dawson down here to be neighborly. You’re really fixin’ t’ play cards, are you?”

“That was my plan.” She felt about as welcome as the plague.

Ethan pulled over another chair and put it next to the first. “Here you go, Mattie,” he said. “Take a load off, Dawson.”

They sat next to each other at the round table, at the center of which sat a bowl of popcorn and another of pretzels. Cards, coins and bills were scattered across the scratched wooden top.

While the men were moving around getting drinks and refilling snack bowls, she whispered to Dawson, “Do you know what the money is for?”

“Betting,” he said. “Makes it more interesting.”

She would have to take his word on that. She had a bigger problem. “I don’t have any money with me. Do you?”

He looked at her as if she had pink hair. “Of course I’ve got money.”

“Can you lend me some? Just until we get back to the house?”

“Okay.” He pulled out some folded bills and handed her a couple as he asked, “Do you know anything about poker?”

“Nope. But how hard can it be?” she asked, taking the money.

Ethan handed Dawson a beer and said, “You deal.”

“Where’s my beer?” Mattie asked, anxious to be a part of the whole thing, to experience everything.

“Are you old enough to drink?” Dawson asked, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’d ask for ID if I were you,” he said to Ethan.

“Number one, I’m twenty-one,” she said. “Number two, thanks to you, we’re on foot and not driving. So who cares if I have a beer?” It annoyed her no end that none of the cowboys moved until Dawson gave them a nod.

“Thanks,” she said, when Ethan set the beer can in front of her. She looked at Dawson. “Now you can deal.”

“All right, your ladyship.” He looked around at the chuckling men, then his gaze rested on her. She didn’t miss the challenge there. With supreme confidence he began shuffling the deck. “Mattie has never played before.” The remark produced a series of black looks and barely concealed annoyance. “So let’s start with something simple.”

That was the Dawson she’d come to know and not love. He didn’t have to do her any favors. She made a mental note to give him a piece of her mind later. “No need to go easy on me,” she said. “I’ll pick it up fast.”

He smiled, irritating her with the genuine cheerfulness in his look. “All right,” he said. “No special treatment.” He started to deal, letting the cards land facedown in front of each player. “How about seven card, no peek, roll your own, one-eyed jacks and kings with mustaches wild?” he asked.

Mattie stared at him. “Roll your own? Is this cigarettes or poker?”

“Poker. Do you want me to deal you out?”

“Not on your life,” she said, sipping her beer. Nasty stuff, she thought. But she would drink the whole can and ask for another before she would let one of them know how much she hated it. “I just have one question. What’s this about one-eyed jacks and kings with mustaches?”

Dawson stopped dealing, and quickly riffled through the deck, pulling out the cards in question. He showed her the difference. She nodded. “Thanks,” she said. “You can finish now.”

He buried the cards to everyone’s satisfaction and completed the job. Without a word, Ethan, who sat on Dawson’s right, flipped over his top card. It was a nine of clubs. Then he tossed a dollar into the center of the table. When everyone did the same, she put money in, too. Burch turned over four of his cards, and stopped when he showed a king—clean-shaven, Mattie noticed. He put three dollars on the table, and everyone else did, too. This could get expensive, she thought.

Next Bobby Lee started turning over cards. Since none of them had picked up all their cards, she figured out what “no peek” meant. Then it was her turn. She flipped over four cards before she turned over an ace. She leaned over to Dawson and whispered, “What do I do now?”

“Bet,” he answered.

“On what?” she asked.

“You have the highest card showing.”

“So I win?” She looked at him.

“Not until all the cards are turned over and we see who has the best hand.”

“What’s a hand?” She ignored the groans and sighs from the other men.

Dawson patiently explained. “In poker there are hands—a pair, two pair, three of a kind, full house, etcetera up to the highest, which is a royal flush.”

She looked down at the table again. “It seems sort of foolish to put money out not knowing if I can win.”

“That’s part of the fun,” he said. “But if you don’t want to bet, just say ‘check.’”

“Check,” she answered.

Dawson turned over all his cards and apparently had nothing, because he said, “I’m out.”

They went around the table again. Burch had two kings and two threes—“two pair,” someone said. When it was her turn, she flipped over all her cards and was excited when she saw three aces. All the men groaned.

She looked at Dawson. “Is this good?”

“Yeah. You win,” he said. “All the money is yours.”

“Really?” This was very exciting. No wonder they did it once a week. She scooped up the bills and coins from the center of the table and returned the money she’d borrowed from Dawson. “Who deals next?” she asked.

Ethan picked up the cards and dealt them. The game moved a bit faster, until Dawson had to explain to her again what constituted a hand and what beat what. There was so much groaning in the room, it sounded like a haunted house on Halloween. And when she won the second round, she felt guilty, and tried not to take the pot. But they insisted, albeit angrily. “Beginner’s luck,” one of them grumbled.

“Now who deals?” she asked.

Bobby Lee yawned. “It’s gettin’ pretty late.”

Mattie glanced at the clock. It was only nine-fifteen.

Burch stood up. “I gotta get goin’. See y’all later.” Faster than you could say “lickety-split,” he was gone.

Ethan yawned again and said, “I have to be up early.”

“Me, too,” Bobby Lee said.

Mattie was confused, a state of mind that was becoming increasingly familiar to her the more time she spent in the company of men who were not her brothers. From all she’d heard, these games went on until the wee hours. This seemed very early to break up. And she had just been getting the hang of it. Was Dawson right about the guys feeling that she was bad luck? Or were they miffed because she had all the good luck? Poor sports! She almost blurted that out, but decided against it.

“Guess we’d better go and let these guys get some shut-eye,” Dawson said. He curved his hand around her arm and pulled her to a standing position with him.

She noticed that Ethan didn’t waste any time opening the door. The chill wind blew in, but it wasn’t as cold as the room had been when she’d raked in the last pot. Still, she figured she could be gracious and not let on that she knew they were upset because she’d won. Having so many brothers had taught her a lot about male pride.

“You’re right. I have to get up early, too,” she said, making her way to the door. “I almost forgot. Aunt Lily asked me to supervise some schoolchildren who are coming to the ranch tomorrow. She suggested that I pick someone to help me with them. How about it, Ethan?” she asked, looking up at him. He was tall and lanky. Not unattractive, but not muscular like Dawson….

She wondered where that thought had come from. It was followed quickly by a fervent hope that this sudden hang-up she’d developed of comparing all men to Dawson Prescott was something she’d get over soon.

“Sure, Mattie,” Ethan said. “I’ll give you a hand. If Mrs. Fortune wants me to,” he answered.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll see you in the corral around nine-thirty.” She thought Dawson mumbled something. “What did you say?”

“I said, let’s go and let these guys get some sleep.” Dawson took her elbow none too gently and guided her off the porch.

They started walking toward the big house. Mattie was vaguely disturbed at the abrupt way the evening had ended. Since Dawson had witnessed everything, she decided to risk asking him. “Did it seem to you that the guys were bad sports?”

In the moonlight, she read the wry look he gave her. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I’ve been around long enough to see them drag to work after a late night of poker. They don’t let an early-morning wake-up call stop them—if they’re winning. Do you think they were upset because I had some beginner’s luck?”

He shook his head. “Nope. It’s the female thing.”

She stared at him. “Define ‘female thing.’”

“Bad luck to play cards with a girl.”

“Then why deal me in at all? Or why mention the game in front of me?”

He shrugged. “You’re the boss’s niece. They couldn’t very well tell you to go home.”

“I just wish they’d been honest.”

Their shoulders happened to brush at that moment and she felt him flinch—or abruptly pull away from the contact. She wasn’t sure which. Before she could puzzle it out, they arrived at her front door.

This was the first time a man had ever escorted her home. That thought produced a nervous sort of feeling in the pit of her stomach. But this was Dawson.

“If I’m bad luck, then you won’t want to help me with the kids tomorrow.”

“I’ll risk it,” he said. “An honorable man doesn’t go back on a promise.”

“Suit yourself,” she said and went inside.

She leaned against the door and thought again about how Dawson reminded her of dynamite. The more time she spent in his company, the closer the match got to her fuse.