The Rancher's Mail-Order Bride Page 6

  Wyatt grinned. “Onward to the puppies.”

  “Yeah!” Ian bucked and kicked like a featherweight bronc rider. “To the puppies!”

  OKAY, HANNAH THOUGHT as she armed herself with a bucket full of cleaning supplies. She’d definitely had a trial by fire today. Dogs, chickens, a goat, rooster, horses, cows, angry bulls, a peacock and a llama of all things! A lizard had scuttled by, but that wasn’t so bad. She’d coped.

  Now snakes were another matter altogether, she thought as she gave the toilet she was about to clean a surreptitious look.

  Wyatt had cautioned her to be alert—not scared, but alert. When she’d pinned him down on the matter, he’d mentioned they liked to hide under rocks and in shady places.

  In California, she’d heard of snakes getting loose in the sewer system and coming up through the toilet. It was her worse nightmare.

  Lord above, she could see the headlines now: “Woman found dead in the bathroom, pants around her knees and no apparent reason for a healthy woman of thirty to suffer a heart attack.”

  Apparent would be the key word some ingenious sleuth would pick up on, somehow getting to the bottom of the mystery. The new headlines would read: “Snake enters toilet by way of sewer pipes and gooses woman in the bare behind, frightening her—literally—to death.”

  Hannah shuddered and did a little dance. Catching sight of herself in the mirror over the sink, she felt like a fool. An emotion that was beginning to feel second nature.

  Get a grip, Hannah. She briskly swished the toilet brush around the bowl, flushed and slammed down the lid. The bathroom was clean enough, she decided.

  Anyway, now that she’d been exposed to all the animals, she could systematically learn to get along with them, make peace with them.

  Prove to Wyatt Malone that he hadn’t chosen wrong when he’d agreed to have her as his mail-order bride.

  She’d start with the easy ones—the dogs—and work her way up, perhaps chickens next. Or the goat. That one truly did appear taken with her.

  Perhaps some Internet research on the care of goats would be in order. She wondered if Wyatt even had a computer or was hooked up to a local server for Internet access.

  With the toilet brush in one hand and the bucket in the other, she came around the upstairs corner and slammed right into Wyatt.

  “Oh!” Her breasts tingled and her breath rushed out in a whoosh. The bucket dropped to the floor.

  His hands shot out automatically, grabbing her shoulders, then her stomach, his big palms cupping her pregnant belly with a reverence that nearly melted her bones.

  “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  Nervous, off balance, she said, “I’m fine. Thankfully my chest still sticks out farther than my stomach.” The minute the words left her mouth she went scarlet.

  And Wyatt’s gaze went right to the thirty-four Ds in question.

  His lips twitched, his hazel eyes filled with amusement and something much hotter. “Yes. Thankfully.” A murmur. Almost a prayer.

  “I didn’t expect you home so soon. I was just cleaning a bit.” This felt so awkward—explaining her actions in his house. It was still so new.

  “You don’t have to clean.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind. Ian’s resting—he had a full and wonderful day with all the animals, but I’m afraid it wore him out. I had some time on my hands and thought I’d make myself useful.” And hopefully, indispensable.

  “You could have rested with him. You shouldn’t overdo things in your condition.”

  She smiled when he still looked skeptical. “I’m fine Wyatt. I had a check-up right before I came to Montana and I’m taking my pre-natal vitamins religiously.” His consideration was so sweet. She was going to have a good life with this sexy cowboy. The thought of it made her giddy.

  Provided she could get him to love her, that is.

  She glanced at her watch. “I put a roast in the oven, but it’s got another hour to go yet. Should I have planned dinner sooner?”

  “An hour will be fine. That’ll give me a chance to shower. I don’t imagine I smell any too pretty.”

  “You smell fine.” She ducked her head. Boy did he smell fine. All male. Cowboy male. Just like her fantasies. But the real thing was so much better.

  Her gaze fastened on his chest, broad and strong, then moved up his neck, lingering for a half a second on the red bandanna tied there, then onward to his lips.

  Sensual, unsmiling lips that were bracketed by deep creases etched by humor and heredity.

  “Hannah.”

  “Yes?”

  “You really shouldn’t be looking at me like that.”

  Feeling pleasantly dazed, her eyes lifted, met his. She licked her lips. “Like what?”

  The growl issued from the back of his throat could have been distress or desire. “Like I’m on the dinner menu.”

  “Sorry.” It was a half whisper. She touched his chest, her palm right over his heart. She didn’t know where the boldness came from, but it rose up inside her, clamoring for release.

  He tensed, and although he didn’t back away, she instinctively knew that he wanted to.

  Or felt he had to.

  “I haven’t been kissed in over five years.” She hadn’t known she was going to say that, hadn’t known it mattered. But it did. Desperately.

  His gaze shot down to her stomach, then back up. “Excuse me?”

  “Having sex and getting pregnant doesn’t always involve kissing.”

  “It sure as hell does.” He sounded appalled.

  She shook her head, slowly, couldn’t help but stare at his lips, her own mouth parting. It was as though she was held in some sort of marvelous spell.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes. Now that I really think about it. Allan might have given me a few closed-mouth kisses or pecks on the cheek, but I haven’t really been kissed in…in way too long. Would you…?”

  She never had a chance to finish the request.

  He pulled her tight against his chest, their bodies pressed in a way that made her ache and pulse and feel exactly like a woman. His lips were warm and firm and sure. With very little pressure and an abundance of expertise, he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, asking for and gaining entrance.

  Hannah sagged against him and moaned, the sound swallowed in his mouth as he angled her head and took her deeper, farther.

  Created genuine magic with just the simple touch of his lips and tongue.

  Her heart bumped against her rib cage as desire raced rampant through her body, setting her on fire, awakening long-dormant sensations. She might be five months pregnant, but she hadn’t experienced this depth of desire and arousal in years—if ever.

  Not only were her nerve endings awakened, but so was the baby in her womb. It kicked, causing Wyatt to jerk back.

  He looked about as stunned as she felt.

  “Well,” she said when she finally had enough breath to do so. “That was worth the wait.”

  His cheeks actually turned red, charming her.

  “Glad to oblige.” He cleared his throat. “I better go take that shower now.”

  Watching him walk away, Hannah touched trembling fingers to her well-kissed lips. If she hadn’t been in love with him before, she certainly was now.

  Any man who could kiss like that, make her toes curl inside her shoes, was a man to keep.

  Why had she ever thought she could settle for less with Allan?

  She wondered if she’d been too forward just now. Would he think her a racy woman? Loose and free and easy. Oh, she knew that most people thought of Californians as faster—with cars, sex, plastic surgeons and just about every other decadent thing imaginable.

  But Hannah wasn’t like that.

  She had just needed, badly, to be kissed.

  When Wyatt shut the bathroom door, she twirled, right there in the upstairs hallway, the forgotten toilet brush now clutched to her bosom like a bouquet of cactus blossoms.

  Oh,
my gosh! She’d just kissed the sexiest cowboy on the planet while she was holding a toilet brush! The very thought tickled her.

  WYATT WAS STILL having trouble getting his body to settle down, and that was after half an hour in a cold shower.

  What in the world had possessed him to kiss her like that? He knew damned well he wasn’t keeping her. So, why had he allowed himself a taste?

  A single taste that now felt like it would never be enough, would haunt him without respite.

  The smell of garlic roast filled the kitchen, making his mouth water. She kissed like a million bucks, and if the delicious scents in the kitchen were any indication, she cooked like a dream, too.

  But no matter her qualifications, he wasn’t looking for a wife.

  So, why the devil had he kissed her? He’d lost his mind, that was all. It was the innocence in her iridescent green eyes, the siren song of her lips, the understated sensuality that made a man willing to walk across barbed wire just for a taste.

  Man, if he kept this up, he was going to need to soak himself in the icy creek. He debated skipping out and going to the bunkhouse with the guys. But he wasn’t a coward.

  He had to face her.

  And he had to come clean about the ad.

  When he’d passed her bedroom door a few minutes ago, he’d heard her talking to Ian. The boy had obviously woken from his late nap. Which meant discussions would have to be put off a while longer. He didn’t want to get into the whole thing with Ian present. But it would have to be done soon.

  He couldn’t keep kissing her. Leading her on.

  The back door burst open and Skeeter Hawkins walked in. He had the bowlegged gait of a lifelong horseman, and was the best foreman in the county.

  “I take a couple of days off to go bury a nephew and what happens? I come back to hear you’ve gone and advertised for a bride, that’s what.”

  “I didn’t advertise for a bride.” Skeeter had been working on the Double M since Wyatt was in his teens. The man was practically family. “How’s Marilyn?”

  “Holdin’ up.”

  “And you?” Skeeter’s nephew had been a great pride to the old cowboy. A successful engineer with a fine family who’d been struck with cancer at the indecently young age of thirty-two. Three years younger than Wyatt.

  “I’m good. Best thing is to get back to work. Tried to talk Marilyn into coming home with me, but she’s wanting to stick close to the grandchildren. Worry’s me some with her stiff upper lip and all. Time will tell.” Skeeter opened the oven door and sniffed.

  “Smells pretty dang good. So, why’d you advertise for a mail-order bride?”

  “I told you, I didn’t.”

  A gasp at the kitchen doorway had Wyatt whirling around.

  Hannah stood there clutching Ian’s hand, her face pale. “You didn’t run that ad?”

  Chapter Five

  Wyatt could have kicked himself for not keeping his voice down. He hadn’t wanted her to find out this way.

  Granted, he hadn’t figured out how to tell her, but this certainly wasn’t it. She needed gentleness. She’d gotten bluntness.

  It was inexcusable.

  He went to her, started to reach out.

  “You didn’t place the ad?” she asked again, her voice strained.

  “No,” he said softly, his heart aching at the emotions chasing across her face, the stunned, hollow-eyed look of disbelief, of shattered hopes.

  “But…your picture…Who—?”

  “Ozzie and some of the other men in town.”

  “Why?”

  “They have some crazy notion that the town’s gonna die—”

  “No.” Hannah held up her hand. A chill washed through her, followed by the heat of embarrassment. He was looking at her with something that very closely resembled pity. She couldn’t abide that. She’d had her fill of patronizing from Allan.

  “Why didn’t you say something? How could you bring me out here? To your house?” The buzzing in her ears nearly drowned out the thoughts flipping at warp speed through her brain. She had a U-Haul trailer outside, still hooked up to the truck, filled with all her worldly possessions. There wasn’t a lot there that held sentimental value—except for the curio cabinet that had been Grandmother O’Malley’s. Earlier in the day she’d decided it would go nicely in the front room, between the hallway to the west wing and the dining room.

  How presumptuous of her.

  He hadn’t even advertised for her.

  Even worse, she’d kissed him like there was no tomorrow. Practically begged for that kiss! Her mortification went straight through the roof.

  “I felt responsible.”

  “Respons—oh, I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe…I’ll get my things right now and be out of here before—”

  “No!” Ian cried. “You p-p-pr-promised we c-c-could live on th-th-the ranch!”

  Hannah bent down, hugged Ian to her. “Take it easy, sweetheart. Slow down. It’s going to be fine.”

  “There’s h-horses here, and dogs!” He sobbed against her shoulder.

  “I know, buddy.”

  Wyatt bent down and tapped Ian on the shoulder. The tears broke his heart. “Hey, partner.”

  When Ian peeked at him, he patted the boy gently on the back, his fingers brushing against Hannah’s. For just a bare instant, his gaze went to hers, noting the utter heartbreak there, too. Heartbreak for her son. Maybe a little bit for herself. He felt like scum.

  “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  The little boy’s lashes were spiked with tears, his nose running, brown eyes filled with a wariness that no four-year old should know. Wyatt swept a thumb beneath Ian’s eye, lingered just a moment over the baby-soft chubby cheeks, the feel creating an ache in his gut that he didn’t want to examine.

  “Skeeter’s about the best cowboy around and knows all about roping cattle. I bet he’d be happy to show you how to twirl a rope.”

  Ian looked at Skeeter with a spark of cautious interest swimming in his eyes. If only it were always this easy to distract. The resilience of youth should never be battered by the hard knocks of life, but what should be and what was didn’t always mesh.

  “Dang right,” Skeeter said. “I’m the ropin’ champion. Leastways I was back in ’83. What do you say, little buddy? Want to go have a bit of practice with me before we lose all the light and the bugs get to munchin’?”

  A fleeting smile nearly tipped Ian’s lips. He glanced at Wyatt. For permission. For reassurance.

  The responsibility that single look put on Wyatt’s shoulders was awesome and humbling. He nodded. “You go. I’ll try to fix it in here with your mom, okay?”

  “’Kay,” Ian said, then went over to Skeeter and slipped his hand into the old cowboy’s ham-size paw.

  Wyatt waited until they’d gone out the back door before he spoke. “Hopefully Skeeter won’t teach him to spit along with the rope lessons.”

  The attempt to lighten the atmosphere fell flat.

  “You shouldn’t have told my son you’d fix things. He’s had enough empty promises in his life—and those were from a man who was supposed to love him. He doesn’t need them from a stranger.”

  That hurt. Never mind that he was essentially a stranger. A part of his heart that he normally kept firmly locked had opened a crack. He didn’t feel like a stranger. Nor did he want to be.

  “Seems to me I’m not the one who took the chance on empty promises.” He hadn’t meant to bite back like that, winced at the hurt that leaped into her green eyes.

  “I had no idea they were empty,” she defended. “The letters you wrote to me said this was what you wanted. You…” She closed her eyes. “You didn’t write them. My God, I’m so sorry. You must’ve thought I was some kind of nut.”

  “No. I didn’t think you were a nut. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did just now, and I shouldn’t have given your son hope. But there’s no reason why it can’t be, Hannah. Stay for a while. Let him en
joy the animals and the ambiance.”

  “For a while?”

  “Yes.” He could tell she was going to turn him down even before she shook her head. Inspiration struck. “You came here for the life-style, Hannah. Not for me.”

  She opened her mouth, started to say something, then seemed to change her mind. “So?”

  “So stay. Let me introduce you around.”

  “Introduce…Are you suggesting that you’ll be my matchmaker?”

  If Ozzie could, he could. “I guess. Sort of.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I feel responsible.” He held up a hand, cut her off before she could let pride speak for her. “You packed up your belongings and your kid and crossed five states. And I don’t think you did that on a whim.”

  He saw her touch the necklace, give a self-deprecating roll of her eyes. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He reined in the impulse.

  “Making a decision in a short period of time is different than acting on a foolish whim, Hannah. You’ve thought about this for years, haven’t you? You’re looking for what your Aunt Shirley had.” He had her attention now.

  “And you’ve come to the right place for that. Just not the right man.” Even though he believed that with all his heart, it stung to say it, to accept it. Ridiculous.

  “All the more reason I should get out of here.”

  “No. Shotgun Ridge is filled with good, honest, hardworking people. Men. Stay, Hannah. We’ll socialize some, introduce you around. You’ll have so many suitors, you’ll have to beat them off with a stick. We’ll find you that husband so you can have your dream and your life on a ranch that you want.”

  “But not with you.” It was a statement, delivered softly, sadly, the hint of embarrassment still there.

  He sighed. “No. Not with me. I had my chance at family and lost. I just can’t do it again.”

  Hannah swallowed against the bitter regret that backed up in her throat. The advertisement had said Wyatt was a widower. She’d thought that by placing the ad for another bride, he was over the heartache. “Your wife?” she asked.

  “And son.”

  Her heart did a quick, stinging flop. “Oh, Wyatt. I’m so sorry.” To lose a child was the worst devastation, too unbearable to even contemplate. She wanted to know details but his tight body language told her he’d exhausted that particular subject for now.