Buckhorn Beginnings (33 page)

“I thought you wanted to get married?”

He shook his head, wondering if Sawyer was rattling him on purpose. “I want a wife like Honey.”

Sawyer spewed coffee across the table. Morgan gave him a look then handed him a napkin. “I said
a wife
like
her, not Honey, herself. I want someone domestic and settled and sweet….”

“You don't think Misty fits the bill? What, she's not sweet? She's got a nasty temper?”

“I never said that,” he ground out between clenched teeth. He thought Misty Malone was about the sweetest woman he'd ever met, even if her temper rivaled his own. Or maybe because of her temper. He almost grinned. “You keep forgetting, Misty doesn't want to get married. She's told me that plain as day.”

Suddenly Sawyer's eyes widened. “Good God. You're afraid.”

Morgan slowly stiffened, and he felt every muscle tense. In a low growl, he asked his brother, “Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?”

Sawyer waved a hand, dismissing any threat. “You're afraid you'll ask her and she'll turn you down.”

Even his damn toes tensed. “You're a doctor of medicine, Sawyer, not psychology. There's a good reason for that, you know.”

Sawyer started to laugh. “I don't believe this. Women have been chasing you for as long as I can remember, and now here's one you've got cornered, keeping her as close as you can get her, but you're afraid of her.”

“Honey's not going to like you much with a bloody nose.”

Morgan hadn't actually raised a hand in anger toward any of his brothers since his early teens. He
assumed that was why Sawyer so easily ignored his warning.

Sawyer was still laughing, and Morgan decided it was time to change the subject. “She's taken another job.”

That shut him up. “Misty quit working for you?”

“No, she took a second job. But should she be doing that in her condition?”

“Her condition isn't exactly debilitating,” Sawyer pointed out, then with curiosity: “What job did she take?”

“She's working at the diner.” Morgan knew he sounded disgruntled, but damn it, he didn't want her working two jobs. And he sure as certain didn't want her out there where anyone and everyone from town would be able to look her over. The woman didn't know her own appeal. Before she'd even be aware of it, she'd find herself engaged again. Morgan wasn't about to let that happen.

“From what she said, I gather she plans to work there an additional six or so hours, all in the evening. I think it's too much.”

Sawyer frowned in thought. “She's a healthy young woman, and her pregnancy is still in the early stages, so it probably won't bother her right now. But when she gets further along, there's a good chance her ankles will swell and her back will hurt if she stays on her feet for that long.”

“Maybe you should try talking to her.” Morgan thought it was a terrific idea, and his mood lightened. “You're a doctor. She'd listen to you.”

“I'm not
her
doctor, so it's none of my business. Come to that, it's none of your business, either.”

“Hmm. She hasn't mentioned seeing a doctor at all. And shouldn't she be taking vitamins or something?”

Sawyer gave it up. “Why don't you ask her about it. I can give her the vitamins, but she should have regular checkups with an obstetrician. Being she's new in the area, I could recommend someone.” As an afterthought, Sawyer asked, “How far along is she?”

“I think she said around three months. Why?”

Sawyer finished his coffee and stood. “No matter.” He looked his brother over carefully. “I've got to get to work. Are you going to be okay?”

Morgan immediately frowned again. “I'm fine, damn it.”

“Just asking.” He turned to go, but hesitated. “Morgan? At least think about what I said, all right? If you wait too long to figure things out, you could blow it. And I can only imagine what a miserable bastard you'd be in that case.”

Morgan watched him go, thinking that marriage had made Sawyer more philosophical than usual. Then he thought of Misty at the office, with Nate and Jesse and Howard all sucking up to her. He saw red.

Howard and Jesse were old enough to be her grandfathers, and she was right when she said Nate wasn't much more than a kid.

It was a sad day when he got jealous over the likes of them, but Morgan admitted the truth—he
was
jealous. Viciously jealous. He didn't want anyone looking at her, because he knew good and well that any red-blooded male, regardless of his age, would be thinking the same erotic things he thought.

Jealousy was new to him. He'd been dating women since before he was Casey's age, and never once experienced so much as a twinge. If a woman wasn't interested, he moved on. If she was, they set up ground rules and had some fun. The twist with Misty was that she was interested, but she'd rather deny them both because she'd been burned and she didn't want to get
involved.
Morgan had thought that the promise of an uninvolved relationship might suit her, but so far she'd turned that down, too.

Was Sawyer right? Was Misty only trying to protect herself from being hurt again? He knew having a record wasn't something she'd ever be able to accept, so he'd set things in motion on that front. He didn't believe she was guilty, but he had a hunch who was. He'd hired a few men to check into it, and now it was only a matter of waiting to see if he was right.

Maybe once that was taken care of, she'd stop holding back on him. If he could only get her to see how good things would be between them… What? He'd get her to marry him?

Morgan thought about that, then nodded. Life with Misty would be one hell of a wild ride. He grinned with the thought. She was spicy and enticing and sweet and stubborn, and he wanted her so bad he couldn't sleep at night.

Morgan stood and picked up his hat, then snatched his keys from the peg on the wall. It was well past
time he got a few things clear with her. Tonight, when he took her to his house, he'd stake a claim. He'd show her that they were a perfect match and when she got used to that, he'd reel her in for the permanent stuff.

In the meantime, he'd shore up his cause by showing her how gentle and understanding he could be. He'd even make a point of not frowning and maybe, just maybe, she'd stop fighting him so hard and then he could quit feeling so desperate, because he sure as certain didn't like the feeling one damn bit.

M
ORGAN'S
better intentions were put on hold when he found a woman with a car full of kids and a flat tire waiting on the side of the road. She'd been on her way home from grocery shopping when the tire blew. Unfortunately, her spare wasn't in much better shape. Morgan called in to Misty, told her why he'd be late and asked her to postpone his morning meeting with the town trustees.

She'd sounded a little frazzled when he called, but he didn't have time to linger and find out why. He bundled the woman, her children and her flat, as well as her worthless spare, into the Bronco and drove to her house. The kids, ranging in age from one year to twelve, had screamed and yelled and generally enjoyed the excitement of being in the sheriff's car. Morgan wondered if he ought to make that a regular part of the Blackberry Festival. He and his deputy could take turns giving the kids a ride around the town square.

His thoughts wandered from that as the woman tried to thank him in her driveway, obviously embarrassed that her children were loud and that he'd had his day interrupted. Personally, Morgan thought the kids were pretty cute, three of them girls, the young
est two boys, and he told her so even as he juggled a bag of groceries and a tiny three-year-old. The mother had positively beamed at him then.

All in all, they'd acted like children, which they were, so he saw no reason for her to be uncomfortable about a little noise.

After Morgan helped her get her groceries inside, he called Gabe. His brother met him at the garage where they got both tires repaired. After they'd driven back out to her car and changed the tire, Gabe drove the woman's car to her house while Morgan took the Bronco. Finally, they both went back to the garage.

“I appreciate your help, Gabe. Could you believe those tires she's driving on? And with five kids in the car.” Morgan shook his head, wondering if there was any way he could help her. She and her husband were both hard workers, but her husband had suffered an illness and missed a lot of work in the past year.

Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. “What's her husband do for a living?”

“He's a carpenter, I think.”

“Maybe we could barter with him. You still need some trim put on the back deck, and if he could—”

Morgan grinned. “—do the work on a weekend, I could give them some tires.” He clapped Gabe on the back, almost knocking him over. “Hell of an idea.”

Gabe shifted his shoulder, working out the sting of his brother's enthusiasm. “If you want, I could get hold of the guy, tell him I'm not able to do the trim
and see if he'd be interested. It'd probably sound more authentic coming from me.”

Morgan started to clap him again and Gabe ducked away. “I'll take that as your agreement and get in touch with him tomorrow. I'll let you know what he says.”

Morgan left Gabe with a smile on his face. But when he pulled into the station, Ms. Potter, the librarian, hailed him. She wanted to know if he'd agree to take part in their annual read-a-thon, where a group of leading citizens would each pick a day to read to the preschoolers and anyone else who wanted to listen in. Morgan agreed, though it wasn't one of his favorite tasks. The books for that age group tended to rhyme, and his tongue always got twisted.

Next it was two shop owners who wanted to know if he was going to have the county take care of a massive tree limb that was likely to fall on their roofs if a storm hit. Morgan eyed the tree, agreed it needed a good trimming and made a note to get hold of the maintenance crew.

By the time he finally walked into the station he was hot and sweaty and frustrated. He looked forward to seeing Misty, to reassuring her, showing her what a great guy he could be and that she could trust in him. Little by little, he'd win her over. Then he'd talk to her again about her avoidance of commitments.

He walked into chaos.

The noise had reached him even before he opened the door. Laughter. Lots of male laugher and music and a banging noise. Morgan frowned and headed
directly for the small desk that Misty occupied during her work hours. He found her sitting there—not in the chair, but on the edge of the desk, her long legs bare, crossed at the ankles. Casey was there, too, with a couple of his pals, and they had evidently supplied the music that was blasting from a portable CD player. Howard had pulled Misty's chair to the side of the desk and was seated in it. Jesse had his bony butt propped on the arm of the chair. Nate stood in front of Misty, dancing while she cheered him on.

Her tailored slacks had been replaced with shorts. Her white blouse was gone in favor of a loose T-shirt. She was barefoot, and of all damn things, she was licking an ice-cream cone.

Morgan saw red.

No one had noticed him, and he watched silently while his temper seethed. When Nate made a turn, Misty shook her head, swallowed a large lick of ice cream and then handed her cone to Casey. Casey, the traitor, just laughed and held it for her.

Misty stood in front of Nate and executed the dance step herself.

Lord, she looked sexy.

Morgan glanced around at the other men in the room and saw his thoughts mirrored on all their faces. The last thin thread of his control snapped. “What the
hell
is going on here?”

His roar effectively stopped the dance. Nate nearly jumped out of his skin, Casey quickly handed Misty back the cone, and both Howard and Jesse jerked to their feet. The loud banging noise continued.

Morgan stalked into the room. His gaze slid over Misty, then shifted to Casey. “Turn that damn music off.”

One of the kids with Casey hurried to obey. Nate stepped forward. “Uh, Morgan, we were just—”

Morgan cut him off with a glare. Nate stammered for a moment, then clicked his teeth together and went mute.

With a sound of disgust, Misty stepped forward. “For heaven's sake, Morgan. Stop trying to terrorize everyone.”

Morgan stared at her and silently applauded her courage. No one else in the room would have dared call him to task. She obviously didn't realize quite how angry he was.

Her hair was mussed, her skin dewy, her eyes bright. She looked like someone had just made love to her. And she dared to stand there giving him defiant looks in front of everyone.

“Is this what I pay you for, Malone? To have a party?”

Her eyes narrowed. “We weren't having a party. If you'll just listen…”

The T-shirt clung to her damp skin, emphasizing her breasts and distracting him. Her cuffed walking shorts showed off her long, sleek legs. A pulse tapped in his temple, making his head swim. “Employees of this office,” he said succinctly, “do not traipse around dressed like that.”

She took a step closer to him and stared up, her brows beetled. “I had to change.”

His gaze dropped to the large cone she held, now
dripping on her hand. “Nor do they eat ice-cream cones during business hours.”

“Morgan.” She said his name like a growl.

He ignored the warning, too angry to care that now she was angry, too. “I pay you to work, to answer the phone and take messages. It's little enough to expect that you might take those duties seriously.”

Casey groaned, then mumbled, “Now you've done it.”

Morgan paid no attention to his nephew. He was too fascinated by the way Misty's eyes darkened, turning midnight blue.

She went on tiptoe. “I'll have you know, I've worked my butt off today!”

He leaned to look behind her. “Looks to me like you've got plenty of ass left.”

Her gasp was almost drowned out by the groans of the spectators. Misty turned around and snatched up a stack of notes scattered over the desk's surface. “These,” she said, slapping them against his chest one by one, “are from your various girlfriends hoping for a date tonight.” They fluttered to the floor to land around his feet. “They've been calling all day, tying up the damn phone.”

“Malone—”

“And they were rather persistent that you reply right away.” She gave him a sarcastic-sweet smile. “Before I leave, I'll be sure to let them all know you're most definitely free!”

“Malone…”

“And this,” she said, throwing a yellow bill at his face, “is for the plumber, because everything backed
up and soaked the floor. If it wasn't for Howard and Jesse helping me mop we'd still be six inches under.”

He started to get a little worried. “Uh, Malone…”

“And that constant banging you hear,” she practically yelled, “is the repair man working on the cooling system. In case you missed it, it's about ninety degrees in here.”

So that was why she was all warm and damp. Not because she'd been playing so hard? His brow lifted, but she wasn't through yet. Morgan was aware of Howard and Jesse trying to slip out unnoticed. Casey's two friends had already slunk as far as the door. Nate was openmouthed beside him, not moving so much as a muscle. Casey, the rat, whistled.

“And finally,” Misty snarled, in a voice straight out of a horror movie, “this is the first break I've had all day. The flooding water ruined my lunch, and with no air-conditioning I was too hot to eat, anyway, so Nate got me an ice-cream cone to tide me over until dinner. But since you don't think I should be eating it, why don't
you
take it!”

And with that, she aimed the damn thing like a missile, ice cream first, into the middle of his chest. Morgan gasped as the chill hit him, then made a face when he felt the first sticky dribble soak under his collar and mingle with his chest hair.

Casey stopped whistling. “Uh-oh. The fat's in the fire now.”

Howard and Jesse ran out the door, slamming it behind them.

Nate made a strategic turn and crept out.

Like a stiff, well-trained soldier, Misty tried to
troop out after him. Morgan caught her by the arm, pulling her up short. “Oh, no, you don't.” A clump of ice cream dropped to the floor with a plop. He dragged Misty closer.

He hated to admit it, but her temper turned him on.

He had an erection that actually hurt it was so intense, and every muscle in his body was pulled taut against the need to take her. He stared at her, aroused by the glitter in her eyes, by the way her chest heaved. “I think we should share the cone, Malone.”

Misty reared back, but he caught her other arm, pulling her up close. She stared at his chest, covered in goo, and her lips twitched.

“You think it's funny?” But he fought his own smile. No, life with Misty would never be mundane.

“I think you got what you deserved.” Her bare heels slipped on the floor as she tried to dig in. She giggled as another plop of ice cream fell loose. “Morgan, no! I mean it, Morgan. Don't you dare—”

Her words ended in a gasp of outrage as he squished her up against his chest. “Cold, isn't it?”

She tried to twist free, which only made her breasts slip and slide over his chest. Morgan groaned.

“You…” she started to say breathlessly.

Morgan kissed her. It was a funny kiss, since she was struggling so hard against him, but laughing, too, and they had the damn cone crunching between them, the ice cream fast melting with their combined body heat.

Casey cleared his throat. “I'll be on my way now. See you both later. No need to see me off.”

Morgan lifted his head. “Get out of here, will you?”

Casey laughed. “I'm going, I'm going.”

Morgan watched as Casey dragged his gawking friends out the door and quietly closed it behind them. Misty tried again to pull loose, and he tightened his hold. “Oh, no, you don't. I have a few things to say to you.”

She twisted in his arms, realized she couldn't get free, and stopped squirming. “What?”

He kissed her again. Then against her lips, “I'm sorry.”

“You should be.”

“Mm.” With her mouth open he deepened the kiss, tasting her, making love to her. He groaned when the banging noise suddenly stopped.

As he gasped for breath, she muttered, “You ruined my T-shirt. Now what am I going to wear to work?”

Morgan cradled her head in his palms and asked, “You were going to go to the diner dressed like this?”

“I'm perfectly decent, Morgan, so don't start again.”

“Dear God, you'll start a riot.”

“It was your plumbing that ruined my other clothes. Casey was nice enough to bring these to me when I called.”

“I'll run home and get you something else, okay?”

When she hesitated, he waggled her head. “Have some pity on me, Malone! I'm not used to being jealous, and it's taking some getting used to here.”

“You really were jealous?”

“What did you think? That I just enjoy making an ass of myself?”

She mumbled, “Well, you do it often enough.” Then she glared at him. “You have some explaining to do, insulting me like that in front of everyone.”

He swallowed hard, still very aware of her soft body lined up along the length of his. “You're not going to quit on me, are you, just because I yelled a little?”

“I can't.” She gave him a sad smile. “I need the job.”

Morgan kissed her again, this time gently, because he hated to hear that, to be reminded of her position. “I'm sorry.”

“For embarrassing me?”

“Yeah, though you didn't seem all that embarrassed to me. More like raging mad.”

“True. On top of everything else, I was suffering my own share of jealousy. I mean,
eight
calls from women, Morgan.”

“You were jealous?”

She frowned at him. “That, and annoyed. You have very pushy girlfriends.”

He tried to look innocent. “Some of them are probably just friends.”

“Probably? You don't know?”

He bit his lip, then chuckled. “It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. I swear. Now tell me you forgive me.”

“Are you sorry for what you said?”