brides for brothers 04 - cowboy surrender (2 page)

There was a shortage of women in Wyoming. Even ugly ones were snatched up. Not that anyone would ever call B. J. Anderson ugly. Not with her beautiful body and long dark hair, usually braided, her smooth, creamy complexion that urged a man to touch it, her—

“Did you want something, Jake, or were you just passing the time?” she finally asked, interrupting his thoughts.

He turned away from her, hoping to clear his mind of the strange thoughts suddenly running rampant. “I’ve got a problem.”

“Only one? Then you’re ahead of the rest of us.” She started walking past him.

Desperate for someone to talk to, he reached out and caught her arm—and then dropped it. The awareness that filled him the minute he touched her was part of the problem he had with B. J. Anderson.

“Can you spare me a minute?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the bench that ran along the back wall of the barn.

Jake considered sitting beside her, then thought better of it. He paced across the aisle between the stalls several times.

“Jake, are you going to talk, or parade back and forth?”

“You’re friends with the girls.”

His abrupt statement didn’t seem to faze B.J.

“Girls?”

“Janie, Megan and Anna.”

“Your sisters-in-law? Yes, I think I can safely say they’re my friends.”

“So what are they up to?” He watched her, anxious to see if she would cover up what he suspected was going on.

Her eyebrows rose, but she didn’t look away. The smooth perfection of her face was enhanced by the hazel eyes that dominated it. “About what?”

“Me.”

Her gaze traveled slowly up and then down him, taking in every detail before returning to his face. “I haven’t a clue as to what you’re talking about.” She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest, and extended her boots, crossed at the ankles. The picture of ease.

He raised his hands to his hips and scowled at her. Any other woman would be running for cover about now. B.J. stared at him, not moving.

“Don’t you?”

“No, I don’t, and I don’t have time for twenty questions.” She stood and picked up her bag.

“It’s Friday night. What’s so important that you can’t take a few minutes to chat?”

Her mouth hung open, showing her surprise, which pleased him for some odd reason.

“To chat?” she repeated, an underlying current of humor in her words.

“Yeah, to chat.”

“Jake, I’ve been living a few yards from you for about nine months now. You have never ‘chatted’ once in all that time. You have spoken to me only when necessary, and even then you never smiled.

“Chatting involves smiling, friendliness, common interests—”

“We have common interests,” he inserted sharply, glaring at her.

“Oh, yes, you own animals, and I work on them. You want to discuss the latest breeding information?”

“No! I want to discuss what my new family members are up to.” He paced back and forth again before facing B.J. “Maybe I haven’t been as friendly in the past as I should’ve been, but—”

She turned away from him and sat down again. “What do you want to know?”

He frowned at her, surprised by her behavior. In the past, in spite of his attitude, she’d always been unfailingly polite. “Do you really need to go?”

“No.”

This time he joined her on the bench. “I think the girls are up to something.”

She rolled those hazel eyes and leaned her head against the wall. “Like what? Are they teaching Red some new recipes? Putting flowers in your room, lace ruffles on your bed? What, Jake?”

“So you really don’t know?”

“Jake Randall,” she said, sitting up and blowing out a deep breath, “I have had a hell of a day. I will answer your questions if I can, but I won’t play games. Get to the point.”

“I think they’re matchmaking.”

He sat tensely in the silence that surrounded them, waiting for her response.

A low chuckle, throaty and sexy, drew his gaze to her face.

“How appropriate.” With a smile on her lips, she stood and started out of the barn.

“Wait! B.J., is that what they’re doing?” He wanted confirmation. He hated to accuse them if he was imagining things.

She turned around, one eyebrow slipping up.

He acknowledged again that she was one beautiful woman. Sexy as all get-out in jeans, a flannel shirt and denim jacket. Menswear that he’d like to peel off her, layer by layer, until she was all woman.

“How would I know, Jake?” Her smile widened. “But if they are…how appropriate,” she repeated. Then she headed toward the barn door.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked as he got up to follow her.

“Don’t act the innocent. Everyone in the county would know what I meant. You were the matchmaker for all three of your brothers’ marriages. Why not turn the tables on you?”

“That’s not true.” Before she could object—and he could tell she was going to—he added, “Besides, it was for their own good. They’re all happy now, aren’t they?”

Surprising him, she leaned forward and patted his cheek. “And now it’s your turn. You can be happy, too.” Then she turned her back on him again.

He circled her and stood in front of the door. “Look, B.J., I’m not asking you to stop them. I’ll deal with the problem. I just want to be sure that is the problem. I don’t want to upset everyone for no reason.”

Sighing, she leaned against the wall. “But how would I know, Jake? I haven’t talked to any of them for several days.”

“I think they started their—their plan a week ago when that airhead from Kansas City visited Janie. The one who wanted me to sell the cows and buy ostriches.”

Laughter trembled on B.J.’s lips, and Jake’s mouth went dry. For someone who didn’t mix a lot with the opposite sex, she had very kissable lips, soft, full, generous.

“Did you agree? Are you trying to tell me I’m out of a job unless I bone up on ostrich anatomy?”

“Don’t be silly,” he growled.

“Well, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Why would someone touting ostriches make you think Janie was matchmaking?”

“Because the woman then announced that she’d come to Wyoming to find a husband,” he explained, a triumphant look on his face.

“Probably just a coincidence.”

“Then Megan took me to lunch after drafting me to help her pick out a saddle for Chad. And we were joined by a Marilyn Monroe wannabe, falling out of her dress. She informed me she was looking for unmarried cowboys.”

B.J. frowned slightly, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Still think I’m imagining things? Tonight I come down for supper only to discover Anna has invited a friend, a
single
friend, to visit for a few days. She’s looking for a man, preferably someone not too wimpy.”

“And you think you’re the only nonwimpy man around?” Her eyebrows arched again, and Jake blinked. He wished she wouldn’t do that. It made him want to trace their path with kisses.

He shook his head. “No. But I think I’m the only unmarried nonwimpy man in my own house.”

“There’s Red,” she offered, her smile widening.

“Not unless Miss Janice Kobell wants to go one-on-one with Mildred.”

He’d shocked her. Jake realized B.J. had no idea what was going on under her very nose. Well, maybe not her nose because her aunt Mildred and Red were together at his house, not hers.

“What are you talking about?”

“Sorry, B.J. I didn’t realize that information would come as a surprise.”

“What information?”

“That Red and Mildred…hell, they’re hot for each other.”

Her cheeks flooded with color, drawing Jake’s gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous! Mildred has no interest in—She’s never indicated—She’s never married!”

“So her life is over? Or do you not think Red is good enough for her?” He was growing irritated by her attitude.

“That’s not—Mildred can—I think you’re making this story up.”

“Ask Mildred. She may even deny it, but she’ll blush from here to high heaven if she does.”

B.J. walked away from the door, a frown on her face, pacing back and forth as he had earlier.

“You’re serious about this?”

“Yeah.”

She paced some more, giving him ample opportunity to admire her body. Something he didn’t need.

“Could we get back to my problem?” he asked abruptly, determined to end their conversation before he got as hot and bothered as Red.

She spun around and stared at him. “What problem?”

“The matchmaking thing, damn it. Have the girls said anything to you?”

“No. I told you I haven’t talked to them in several days.”

He sighed. “And I told you they must’ve been planning this scheme for several weeks. Have they said anything to you about finding me a wife?”

“No. Nothing. Maybe they placed an ad for you in a lonely-hearts club magazine.” She reached out for the door, but he put his hand against it, holding it shut.

“What, Jake?” she demanded, frustration in her voice.

Clearly his revelation about her aunt Mildred and Red had distracted her. But he had his own problems to deal with. “Could you ask them?”

“You mean, could I spy on my friends for you? No, I couldn’t.”

“You’d better rethink your decision.”

“Why?”

“Because if they managed to get me married off, who would be their next target?”

A wary look filled her eyes. Slowly she said, “Why would they choose another target? Maybe they’re only interested in marrying you off.”

“I don’t think so. Success goes to the head. They’ll start thinking they’re invincible, that they can play God. And the next unmarried person in their target range is you, B. J. Anderson. They’ll start on you next.”

“Then I’ll just have to hope and pray that you hold out against them, won’t I?” She tugged on the door again.

“You could help me.”

“I won’t spy on my friends.”

“It’s not spying. You could just ask them if that’s what they’re doing. A simple question.” He was close enough now to smell her, an earthy scent that made him think of summer. He’d better end this conversation soon.

“And they would tell me the truth, Jake. Right after they asked me to give my word not to tell you. So what would my asking them accomplish?” He opened his mouth, but she spoke before he could. “No. Don’t ask me to break a promise.”

“But, B.J.—”

“No. I’m not going to help you out, Jake. You’re on your own.” This time when she tugged on the door, he let her open it.

Within seconds he was alone in the barn.

Time to think up a new plan.

Chapter Two

B.J. crossed the yard to the neat little house off to one side. Lights were burning in the windows, welcoming her as they always did.

What was she going to do about Mildred?

Every since Darrell, B.J.’s husband, had died, Mildred had been there for her and Toby. Her aunt had kept house and helped raise Toby from the time he was a year old.

The three of them had shared a good life.

Now Mildred was keeping part of her life a secret. And it had to be because she thought she didn’t have a choice.

Damn Jake Randall’s hide.

The man had been the one drawback in her move to Wyoming. He hadn’t wanted her here. Even when he finally accepted her skills, he still hadn’t wanted her here. She didn’t know why. She just knew he didn’t.

The rest of the Randalls had been delightful, making her feel a part of the community, even a part of their family, her and Mildred and Toby. She’d tried to accommodate Jake’s aversion to her. She’d avoided him, and she’d tried to keep Toby out of his way.

Tonight had been different.

Because he wanted something. She opened the door of the house, still undecided about what to say to Mildred. The thud of little feet took her mind off her problem. She opened her arms wide, dropping her kit as Toby rounded the corner of the hall.

“Mommy!” he called as he launched himself toward her.

“Toby!” she responded. It was a game they played each evening as she came in. He was already in his pajamas, reminding her that she was later than usual.

Spot, the dog Jake had given her son, stood at her feet, barking as she hugged Toby. Then Mildred came toward them.

“Land’s sake, girl, were you planning on working all night? You haven’t had your dinner yet. Toby, get down and let’s take your mom to the kitchen and feed her.”

“Okay! There’s chocolate pie tonight. Mr. Red sent it home with Aunt Mildred.”

“How kind of Red,” B.J. said, watching Mildred. Sure enough, just as Jake predicted, even that mild comment had Mildred’s cheeks pinkening.

With loving concern, the two most important people in her life settled her at the kitchen table. Toby, almost five years old, carried a plate of biscuits to the table and proudly set them in front of his mother. Mildred added a plate filled with delicious food.

“Well, did you have a good day today?” B.J. asked her son, putting off talking to Mildred.

“Yeah! I learned to write my name.” In a flash, he was down from the table and out the kitchen door.

“I believe he’s going to demonstrate his miraculous feat,” Mildred said, her lips curving into a tolerant smile. “He only wrote it for us ten or twelve times.”

“Is he getting in the way?” Several months ago, just before the birth of the twins, Jake had hired Mildred to help Red out with the housework. Each afternoon after preschool, Toby spent his time at the Randall house.

“Not at all. Red and the ladies love on him so much, it’s a wonder he’s not spoiled.”

“Mildred—”

“Watch, Mommy!” Toby exclaimed, running back to the table, a crayon and paper clutched in his hands.

After several repetitions of his new talent, Toby allowed his mother to finish her dinner. Then she took him to bed and read him a story, as she always did.

When she closed the door behind her drowsy son, she returned to the kitchen to find it sparkling clean and no Mildred in sight.

She tracked her down to the living room, where Mildred was watching a favorite TV show. Patiently B.J. waited until the commercial break.

“Jake and I were talking—”

“You and Jake? That’s something new, isn’t it? Maybe he’s gotten over whatever has kept him kind of standoffish,” Mildred said with satisfaction. “Want more pie?” she asked, standing.