The Rancher's Mail-Order Bride Page 9

  He knew he shouldn’t laugh, and barely managed to contain the mirth. “He’d be insulted to hear you talk about him that way. He’s a fairly young cock and considers himself pretty studly.”

  “Then we ought to get him a watch. His sense of timing is awful the way he crows at all hours of the night and morning.”

  He tucked his tongue in his cheek. “I’ll ask him if he’s interested.”

  Hannah elbowed him in the ribs. “Poke fun if you like. You’re used to all this. I’m a novice.” She grabbed his arm, pulled him in a short detour around a good-size rock propped against the fence. “I don’t think the hairs on my arms are ever going to lay back down.” She gave a delicate shudder. “If it wouldn’t make me feel like such a ninny, I’d ask you to carry me.”

  “Be glad to oblige.”

  She bumped him with her shoulder again, charming him with her smile and her action. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day, thanks.”

  “Are you saying you’d be embarrassed to have me carry you?” He had no idea why he was engaging in this conversation, encouraging it. He had no business.

  Her withering look firmly slapped his ego back in place. Hell, he’d thought it would be considered macho and sexy to have her in his arms. Apparently, she wasn’t thinking along those lines. And he shouldn’t be, either.

  “I’m supposed to be learning about ranching and such. Name one rancher’s wife you know who has to be carted around the yard because she’s afraid the snakes are lurking in the shade, determined to torment her.”

  He laughed at the drama of her voice and ignored the little zing that shot through him at her mention of being a rancher’s wife.

  “I might have spooked you unnecessarily. They’re not lurking in the shade, so you don’t have to avoid it. Just be aware and cautious, that’s all. The snakes would just as soon not see you. Make a bit of noise and they’ll stay out of your way.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t give me that ‘they’re more scared of you than you are of them’ speech. I had a friend who went to Florida and was chased by a water moccasin. Chased,” she stressed again.

  “Well, you’re safe here. No water moccasins on the ranch.”

  “What, you don’t have water?”

  “We’ve got water. In fact, there’s a nice little creek not far that’s great for picnics.” Now why would he think of picnics? That was a family activity. And she wasn’t going to be his family.

  He was supposed to be concentrating on finding her another family. Another husband. He was supposed to be teaching her about ranching and the animals.

  “Anyway, the guys are starting to think their hygiene’s poor because you won’t stand next to them.”

  “Oh, no. I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “I imagine you’d have a hard time offending, Hannah. Half the men on this ranch are lovesick over you.”

  She looked at him sharply, the hope in her eyes nearly shouting the question: But not you?

  He felt his heart squeeze, was reminded of his part in messing with her life. He couldn’t bear to be the one to shatter her dreams. So he needed to keep his mind on his purpose.

  And in the meantime, make sure he didn’t shatter his own heart in the process.

  “Where’s Ian?”

  “On the porch playing with the puppies.” She nodded toward the house where Ian’s dark head was bent over the bundle of fur balls frolicking around him, climbing over his lap like he was an obstacle course. His high-pitched giggle floated on the morning breeze, inviting company, a sound that would soften even the hardest of hearts.

  Wyatt looked around and spotted Skeeter leaning against the corral fence, a piece of straw sticking out of his whiskered mouth. Steve and Trevor had already dealt with the snake and were back in the horse arena with Brant, who was putting a new cow pony through his paces.

  “Hey, Skeeter.”

  “Yeah, boss.” The old man walked over, his friendly gaze on Hannah. “Feeling better, missy?”

  “Yes, thanks. Sorry I scared you all.”

  “No need to apologize. Them big old constrictors make my skin crawl, too. I’d a squawked like a chicken myself if I’d come face-to-face with the varmint.”

  “I doubt that, but thank you for saying so, Skeeter.”

  He held up a weathered hand. “Honest.”

  “You busy right now?” Wyatt asked. If Skeeter got any more sweet, he’d drip syrup from his weather-beaten pores.

  “Depends on what you want done.” Skeeter grinned. The old man was as much the boss around here as Wyatt.

  “I thought I’d introduce Hannah to Daisy, but Ian’s about to hug those puppies to death. Mind keeping an eye on him while we’re over at the barn?”

  “Mind? Why, that boy’s a pure pleasure. Talks more than’s necessary,” he teased, grinning at Hannah. “But I’d be mighty glad to watch after him for a bit. Give me a chance to take a load off these old feet.”

  “Thanks, Skeeter.” Wyatt steered Hannah toward the barn.

  She looked back over her shoulder. “Are his feet all right?” Worry colored her voice.

  “Yeah. He’ll complain up a storm, but that’s just his way. He’s got more stamina than Fancy—and just as much spit and vinegar.”

  “Fancy—oh, the llama.” Hannah flicked her hair behind her ear wishing she’d thought to grab a hair band. Although the sun cast a warm buttery glow over the land, the wind had some whip to it.

  As they moved into the cooler interior of the barn, she inhaled the scent of horses and leather and hay. Tornado bobbed his head over the stall door and Wyatt spoke softly to the animal before moving on and stopping by an enclosure farther down.

  Daisy turned out to be a pretty little chestnut mare with velvety eyes.

  “I figured you can’t ride since you’re pregnant and all, but you can get used to the horses. Daisy’s a sweetheart. You can groom her and get comfortable around her.”

  “She’s beautiful.” She hated the apprehension that welled up and was determined to be courageous—even if she had to pretend. “Can I pet her?”

  “Sure. She’ll love you for it. She’ll stand here all day and let you rub on her.”

  “Smart girl. I’d love for someone to rub on me, too.” She said the words without thought for how they would sound. And though her intention was to get this sexy cowboy to notice her, to fall for her, the suggestion made her blush.

  She peeked at him, at his stillness, and laughed. “Relax. I’m not going to strip down right here.”

  “You could if you wanted.” His voice was like gravel, soft and rough.

  An arc of pure erotic sensation flared between them, holding her still, her gaze locked to his, her breath held, her hands trembling where they were poised to stroke the horse.

  Daisy nudged Wyatt’s shoulder and the movement jolted Hannah, breaking the spell.

  Well, that was interesting, she thought. Progress. This was the second time today he’d gotten turned on. By her.

  Lust, she decided, was a very nice stepping stone to love.

  Chapter Seven

  Wyatt made a Herculean effort to get his libido under control and his mind back on the lesson. He had an entirely different lesson in mind, though.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to kiss a woman so badly. He ached with it, used every ounce of his control to keep his hand on Daisy’s smooth coat and not on Hannah’s soft skin or plump breasts.

  He cleared his throat, opened the stall door and carefully urged Hannah inside with him, giving her plenty of time to adjust at her own pace.

  Apprehension and determination. Both flitted across her features. Man, he liked this woman’s spirit. So honest. Nothing hidden.

  “Go ahead and put your hands on her.”

  Tentatively, fingers trembling just a bit, she reached out and stroked Daisy’s neck. “Oh!”

  He smiled at the awe in her voice. “That’s it. Talk to her if you like.”

  “She’s so soft.”r />
  “Mmm.” He put his hand over hers, urged her palm to the blaze between Daisy’s eyes, caught for a minute by the contrast of their hands. Hers smooth and white and soft, his rough and tanned and twice the size.

  Daisy nodded and Hannah jerked, backing into him, her behind nestling right into his groin.

  He ought to get an award for swallowing his groan, for not wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to him even tighter.

  “Easy. She’s not going to buck or kick or bite you or run you down.”

  Hannah smiled, moved away. “Let me guess. The females as well as the males on this ranch have manners.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So she’ll just stand here nicely?”

  “Sure. Now if you jump out at her and say ‘boo’ you’ll scare her and she’ll take off. She can get scared just like you and me. So don’t be making sudden moves and you’ll get along just fine. If you want to walk behind her, just put your hand on her and let her know you’re there.”

  “Look at those big brown eyes,” Hannah cooed. Her hand moved with more sureness now. “And soft lips. Warm. Cuddly.” She inched closer still, hugged Daisy’s neck, laid her cheek against the sleek surface.

  Wyatt inhaled. The restriction in his jeans wasn’t about to abate anytime soon. Her voice and her touch—though directed toward the horse—was running an erotic film in his mind.

  In Technicolor.

  With him and Hannah as the stars.

  She turned, catching him off guard, her smile rivaling the sun. “Thank you for taking this time with me, Wyatt. I know you’re busy.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

  And that worried him. Big time.

  WYATT LOOKED UP from tagging the heifer’s ear to see Hannah hanging sheets on a clothesline. He frowned, handed his tool to Trevor and started toward her.

  Skeeter paused, watched a minute, then grinned. Wyatt kept walking.

  She’d strung a cord from the satellite dish to the cottonwood tree. The wind whipped the sheets up and around the cord faster than she could get them pinned.

  He snagged an end of the fabric, repositioned a pin.

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hanging out the sheets.” Her expression indicated he was a bit slow—especially since he was standing there helping her accomplish the task.

  “We have a dryer.”

  “Oh, I know that. But the smell of sunshine-fresh sheets from the clothesline is heavenly.”

  He raised a brow. “You hang out the wash at your place in California?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “So why go to the extra trouble here?”

  She shrugged, looking at him with uncertainty now. He felt like he’d been mean. “I thought it would be a nice touch. I guess it’s more of a luxury for me, rather than a perk for you.”

  “No.” The wind snatched the sheet out of his hand again and it nearly brushed the dirt. The cord was sagging. “I like the smell of sheets fresh from the line.” Heck, he’d never even smelled them before. “Hang on a sec and I’ll tighten this cord before you end up with it all on the ground and have to rewash it.”

  “Oh, I’m taking you away from your work again.” She inspected the sagging cord as though daring it to fail her, her gaze measuring the distance between the bottom of the sheets and the patchy ground.

  “No problem.” He looped a stick through the slack rope and gave several twists, pulling the cord taut, securing it with a piece of twine.

  “Still, I think…Billy, don’t you dare!”

  Startled, Wyatt whirled and lost his hold on the twine. The line sagged, aided by the goat who now had his mouth around a corner of the end sheet and was intent on a snack.

  He grinned when she charged after the billy goat. She hummed a little sound of distress, but moved forward anyway, attempting to separate cotton from the goat’s mouth.

  “Bad, bad goat. Drop that sheet. I mean it!”

  Wyatt was biting his lip now, but his shoulders were starting to shake. Man, she was cute. Still a little scared of that goat, but toughing it out anyway.

  He moved forward to give her a hand.

  “Stay where you are.” She said. “I’ll handle this.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She whipped around to look at him, her brows creasing. “Don’t call me ma’am, and don’t you dare laugh at me.”

  He swallowed. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She held out her hand to the goat as though she expected it to trot right over and drop the piece of sheet in her open palm. Evidently that’s exactly what she intended.

  “This is unacceptable behavior, Billy. We’ve spoken about manners just this morning, and already you’ve forgotten. You should be ashamed. Now stop that.”

  Amazingly enough, the goat dropped the sheet. Looking chagrined and apologetic, he sidled right over to her and butted her knee lovingly.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Language, Wyatt.”

  His brows shot up. “It’s a goat!”

  “Yes, but a mannerless one. We’re trying to teach here. He’ll misunderstand.”

  His lip was nearly bleeding. “Were you a teacher?”

  “No, but you don’t need credentials to teach behavior.”

  “Of course not.”

  She patted the goat’s head, and shifted back when it bumped her again. The more she shifted, though, the more the goat bumped her.

  She sighed. “Okay, okay. That’s enough for now. Go play or something.” She did a little sidestep dance, but the goat took it as a game. The sidestep soon became a full dodge and a cute, softly pitched shriek escaped her lips.

  She grabbed Wyatt’s forearm, circled him, the goat mirroring her movements.

  “This isn’t working.” There was a tremble in her tone, a combination of laughter and nerves. As she had after the snake incident, she nearly climbed up him, this time, though, stopping short and just pressing herself against him as though trying to become one.

  His amusement rocketed straight into desire.

  The goat stopped and looked at them in confusion at the halt of the game.

  Hannah’s forehead rested against his collarbone, her shoulders lifting and falling in a slow deep rhythm.

  “Hannah?”

  “Just give me a minute.”

  He didn’t know if he could survive for a minute. Her pregnant stomach nestled against his belt. He could simply cup her bottom, lift just a bit, tilt, and she’d be pressed right to the heat of him. The hard heat of him.

  As though they hadn’t just been plastered together like flypaper and one of them wasn’t so aroused he hurt, she stepped back, took a cleansing breath, turned and glared sternly at the goat.

  “I am not playing. I’m bigger than you, and I have work to do. Go lay down!”

  The goat stared.

  “Don’t look at me with those eyes. Ian tries it all the time and it doesn’t work.” She pointed. “Go.”

  And it went.

  Hannah nodded and turned around, feeling terribly proud of herself. Her gaze slammed right into Wyatt’s.

  His hazel eyes sizzled.

  She went utterly still, though her gaze bobbed to belt level then back. Oh. Oh, my.

  Mesmerized, she stood there with the sheets flapping around them like a stark white privacy screen and watched as Wyatt’s arm extended, his hand cupping her cheek, his fingers wrapping around the back of her neck, drawing her closer with a hint of pressure.

  She didn’t need much urging. Ever since their kiss in the hallway, she’d ached to repeat it.

  Time seemed to stand still. The smell of laundry detergent from the damp sheets swirled on the breeze, mingling with the pungent scent of animals and earth…and man.

  His gaze was intense, unreadable. He was thinking this to death, she could tell. He wanted her, but he didn’t want to. That, too, she could tell by looking at him, and the knowledge gave
her power. She parted her lips, saw his eyes flare.

  “What would it hurt?” she whispered.

  The shake of his head was barely there. “More than you know.”

  Closer now, his breath becoming her breath. “We could…take a chance.”

  “I’m not a man who takes chances often.”

  She licked her lips, moved ever so slightly closer, her blood pumping so hard it made her dizzy. If she didn’t feel him, taste him, she’d die. “Just for a minute, then.”

  “Just for a minute,” he repeated, a mere breath, as his lips closed over hers.

  Oh, the taste of him was heaven. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with hers, yet he worshipped her mouth in slow, easy strokes as though they had all day, all year, to just stand there and nibble.

  His kiss sent a thrilling ripple from her head to her toes. It was the most erotic thing she’d ever engaged in. She had no idea a kiss, just a simple meeting of mouths, could arouse so. She ached with it.

  Going on tiptoe, she wound her arms around his neck, angled her head, dove into paradise without a thought for her surroundings or possible audience. There could have been a blizzard around them and she’d have never known.

  His palms traveled from the underneath side of her raised arms, down to her rib cage, his fingers flexing against her back, his thumbs barely brushing the outer swell of her breasts.

  On a moan of pure masculine sensory pleasure, he drew her even closer, wrapped her in his strong embrace, set her on fire and cherished her at the same time.

  This is what a kiss should be, she thought dimly.

  The ground shook beneath her feet. Earthquake, she thought, nearly smiling against his mouth. But she couldn’t smile. She could only whimper, pressing closer, angling this way and that, holding on to a piece of heaven while the ground shook and trembled beneath her.

  A shout and a whistle rent the air.

  Wyatt jerked and reared back, yet her arms were still wound around him, holding him to her chest, her plump breasts pillowed against him.

  Something penetrated his consciousness, but for the life of him, he couldn’t get his brain to focus. He could have sworn the earth moved.