Cowboy Come Home (8 page)

“You won’t be laughing when it’s your turn,” Camille muttered.

“I think I’d better stick with Torie. You know, work my way up,” he teased.

“Exactly. Torie eats baby food before she takes her bottle. You didn’t get here in time tonight.”

“You mean with a spoon? Can she chew?”

“Mercy, yes,” Mildred assured him. “She’s got four teeth. But baby food doesn’t require chewing.”

Toby leaned against his shoulder and whispered, “The peas are the worst. They look like—”

“Toby Randall! Don’t you dare use that word at the dinner table, or you’ll be eating with the babies instead of the adults,” Mildred warned.

“Daddy said it first,” Toby announced, his jaw squaring like his stepfather’s.

“But Daddy didn’t know you were listening, Toby, and he apologized to Mom for saying it, didn’t he?” Camille reminded gently.

“Yeah.”

She offered the little boy a smile, its warmth like a caress that had Toby smiling back at her. Griffin could understand his reaction. He’d give a lot for a smile from Camille. She’d scarcely spoken to him since their time on the porch.

He received instructions, and a cloth to cover his shoulder, for burping Victoria before he put her in her own playpen. The four toddlers were settled in the other playpens, where they would entertain themselves while the adults and Toby had their own dinner.

“Will they have to add another playpen when .Anna has their second child?” Griffin asked, staring at the setup.

“I reckon they’ll start with a bassinet, then a crib like Torie uses now,” Red explained. “And the twins are about to outgrow that playpen.”

“I thought it would be Janie and Pete who added to their family first,” Mildred said, her brow creased. “I hope Anna is recovered enough for a second baby. We’re going to have to keep an eye on her.”

Red nodded in agreement. “Yep. Torie will only be fourteen months when the second one is born.”

Griffin noted the concern in their eyes. He discovered Camille, too, was frowning. “Is anything wrong with Anna? I mean, I know she’s small, but—”

“Naw, and she’s a midwife. She’s knows all about birthing. You just can’t help worrying. Sometimes, I think we have so much happiness around here, something has to go wrong by the law of averages,” Red said with a sigh.

“I hope not,” Camille said fervently. “They deserve their happiness.”

“Right,” Mildred agreed. “We’re just being worrywarts. Eat your dinner. I want to get the dishes cleaned up before the babies tire.”

Camille joined Mildred in doing the dishes. Griffin discovered that meant he was on child patrol. Not too difficult since he and Red sat at the table with a cup of coffee and watched them play.

“I like the division of labor here,” he said with a grin.

“Don’t be countin’ on things being so tame, youngster,” Red warned him. “Sometimes, tears just won’t go away.”

“What do you do then?”

“Pray the women know the reason,” Red said.

“Ah.” He’d pray, all right. Pray that they all kept so busy that Camille stayed far away from him.

AFTER THE CHILDREN were all in bed, Mildred and Red settled in front of the television.

Camille slipped out to the back porch after donning a jacket. Now that she’d realized she would be leaving soon, she wanted to savor every moment at the ranch. The Wyoming night, with its star-filled sky and crisp night air, was a pleasure.

The back door opened, and she spun around to discover Griffin stepping outside. She knew he wouldn’t seek her out, so she figured he hadn’t known she was there.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked.

“I have a coat on.”

“Yeah.” After a silent pause, he said, “You really took on a big load.”

“What?”

“Offering to take care of all the children. It’s a big job.”

“It’s not like I offered to do it on my own. Red and Mildred are wonderful, and you’re even pitching in in the evenings.” He’d been a lot better than she’d expected. “Besides, it’s fun. I always wanted brothers and sisters. Didn’t you?”

There was a long silence. Then he said, “Why would I wish my misery on someone else?”

She held her breath. “Your misery?”

She saw him give an attempt at an indifferent shrug in the darkness.

“My mother was a bitter woman. I kept trying to make her happy, and I couldn’t.”

“No. It wasn’t your responsibility.”

“But—”

“Listen to me. I’m an expert on this subject. I went to a therapist once a week for several years after my mother died. I thought it was my fault she went away.”

“Surely you knew better than that?”

“I was only ten. We’d had an argument and she sent me to my room.” She couldn’t believe she was revealing this secret. “She left to run an errand, while the housekeeper kept track of me. A drunk driver hit her. She never came back.”

She hadn’t realized he’d moved closer until his well-muscled arms surrounded her and she was cradled against his chest. She should protest, but she didn’t. Instead, she enjoyed the comfort he offered. The comfort she’d sought for and never found with her fiancé.

“The psychologist told me over and over again that I wasn’t responsible for her accident or her happiness. And you weren’t, either,” she emphasized, slipping her arms around him.

Instead of his being comforted, too, he broke away from her. “My situation was different.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. I think it’s getting colder. You’d better go on in.”

Anger rose in her. He thought he could order her about? “I don’t want to go in. And I don’t want to be dismissed like I’m a child.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“I’m not going to catch a cold.”

“Damn. I tried,” he muttered. Then she was swept back into his arms, and his lips covered hers.

HE KNEW BETTER. Griffin had warned himself after the horse riding lessons. Touching her was a problem. He’d tried to tell her to go inside.

His lips caressed hers. His arms traced her curves through the jacket and jeans. His mind was spinning out of control.

Not that she was protesting. Her arms were around his neck, her fingers surging through his hair. She moved against him, as if afraid he’d go away.

Not likely. No man could walk away from such a temptation. His hands settled on her hips, which fitted perfectly into his hold. He pressed her even more tightly against his arousal.

“Hey, Camille,” Red called from the back door, “I—Oops!”

Camille pulled away at once, her gaze flying to the back door. “Y-yes, Red? Did you need something?”

“Naw. I thought you might be interested in a program on television, but—but I guess not,” he added, a low chuckle in his voice.

Camille’s cheeks weren’t the only ones that reddened. Griffin was grateful for the shadowy darkness on the back porch.

“I’ll go back to Mildred. Just forget I interrupted.”

After Red disappeared as rapidly as he’d intruded, silence fell between them. Camille continued to stare at the back door, as if waiting for something.

Griffin finally spoke. “Now do you want to go inside, like I suggested?” If she didn’t, he feared he’d sweep her back into his arms, and that wasn’t a good idea.

She spun around and glared at him. “Don’t you dare pretend what happened was my fault, Mr. Griffin Randall. I didn’t invite you to—to...grab me!”

“Ha! You put your arms around me.”

“You already had your arms around me! I was only trying to reassure you that your mother’s unhappiness wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t pretend some sob story made you kiss me,” he grated, regretting his openness. Pity wasn’t what he wanted from her.

“Me kiss you?” She shoved at his chest. “You kissed me!” Before he could protest—and he intended to—she admitted, “Okay, I kissed you back, but I’m not the one who started this.”

He felt like beating his head against the post. “Shh! You’ll wake the kids,” he cautioned, “or at least have Red appearing again.” They’d both been yelling. Probably the entire county had heard their heated words.

She drew a deep, angry breath. In a deadly whisper, she said, “I’ll be quiet. I’ll be so quiet you won’t even know I’m here.”

The witch he still wanted to kiss swept around him like a grande dame in Victorian times, her nose in the air. If it were Victorian times, she’d be banned from society for her wantonness.

And he wanted her back in his arms.

He stood there in the cold, wishing he were anywhere but here, this close to temptation.

GRIFF DREADED returning to the house the next evening. He hadn’t seen Camille at all that morning, but his night had been filled with dreams of her. In the dark loneliness of his bed, he’d carried their embrace to its logical, and in his opinion rightful, conclusion. In his mind.

And woken up frustrated.

When he came in for supper tonight, everything was calm efficiency. Camille avoided looking at him, but she accepted his help feeding the horde.

Griffin was amazed at how well everything was going, in terms of the children. Not that he contributed a lot. The others tried to spare him since he’d been out on the range all day. But he helped.

What amazed him most of all was the love the three adults showed the little ones. Their patience seemed endless. And a lot of patience was needed at bath time. But Griffin couldn’t hide his laughter when the twins created a tidal wave and he and Red were splashed.

An hour later, the house was silent. Griffin discovered he needed a change of shirt after the bath hour. He’d just shrugged into his shirt when there was a knock on his door. He opened it before buttoning up, thinking Red had something to tell him. Instead, Camille stood there, her gaze fastened on his chest.

Tension immediately flowed between them. Griffin hurriedly began buttoning his shirt, feeling overexposed as Camille’s cheeks flamed.

“Yes?” he snapped.

“Oh. Um, telephone. Butch wanted to check with you about tomorrow.” She whirled around and rushed back into the kitchen.

He followed, thinking about her words. Butch. Butch was a good-looking cowboy, one of Jake’s most trusted employees. Griffin liked him.

But he didn’t like the casual way Camille said his name.

“Butch? Griffin here.”

They discussed the plans for tomorrow. Griffin felt everything was taken care of. He was about to hang up the phone when Butch said, “So how’s life at the big house with the beautiful Camille?”

“Fine.” The beautiful Camille? It wasn’t that he didn’t think she was beautiful, but he didn’t like hearing that Butch had noticed, too.

“I had plans of asking her out until everyone left. Now I suppose she won’t have time for socializing until they get back.”

If Butch was asking him to fill in for Camille so she could spend an evening with him, he was barking up the wrong tree. “You’re right. Too many babies.”

“Why don’t you call her back to the phone? I’ll make plans for after their return.”

Griffin was an honest man. At least he’d always thought so. Until now. “She’s already gone to bed, Butch. It’s been a long day.”

“Hell, it’s only nine o’clock,” Butch protested.

“Babies sap one’s energies,” he returned coolly. “I’ll be glad to give her a message.”

“No, I’ll talk to her tomorrow. Earlier.”

“Fine. I’ll see you in the morning.” He hung up the phone, a satisfied smile on his face.

Until he turned around and found Camille staring at him.

“Who’s gone to bed?”

“Uh, I thought—That is, you disappeared after coming to get me, so I thought you’d gone to bed.”

“Butch wanted to talk to me?” Camille looked puzzled. “Why?”

Griffin groaned. Did the woman have no idea how attractive she was? “He wanted to take you out,” he admitted, anger filling his voice.

“Now? I can’t go anywhere until everyone returns.”

“That’s what I told him.”

She tilted her head to one side. “You thought I wouldn’t know to tell him that?”

“Of course you would. I was just trying to help out.” He hoped she bought his lame excuse, because he’d run out of reasons. Other than the truth.

And he really didn’t want to admit that he was jealous as hell.

With a shake of her head, she changed the subject. “Red and Mildred are in the den and asked if we wanted, I mean, if you wanted to watch
ER
with them. It’s just starting.”

“Sure.” Anything to get him out of the conversation about Butch.

And he’d try to keep Butch so busy tomorrow he couldn’t think about a certain blond beauty. Griffin frowned. Keeping busy hadn’t worked as an antidote for him. But he’d think of something, because Camille and Butch together wasn’t something he could accept. And he didn’t bother asking himself why.

Chapter Seven

G
riffin was in the barn, grooming the horse he’d ridden that day. He’d spent a lot of time in the barn since the Randalls’ departure three days ago. It was safer. He looked up in surprise to see Camille enter. She’d stayed as far away from the barn as possible. “Something wrong?”

“Yes.” As he dropped the grooming brush and moved toward her, she held out her hands, palms out, to stop him. “Wait! I didn’t mean—There’s no emergency. Well, there is, but not here.”

“Something’s happened in Hawaii?” he demanded, his face reflecting his concern. There had been telephone calls every day from the vacationing parents.

“No, it’s Mildred’s cousin.”

Griffin stared at her. Had he missed something? “Mildred’s cousin? Do we know Mildred’s cousin?”

Camille shook her head and gave a helpless shrug. “No, we don’t. But she’s fallen and broken her hip. She needs Mildred to come take care of her.”

“But the babies—”

“Two people can handle them. With the food all prepared and the two ladies coming every day.”

“Oh,” he said with a sigh of relief. “So you and Red are going to cover? I’ll try to come in earlier, then. I’ve been—I mean, I thought it would be better—” He broke off and shot her a look of frustration. She knew what he meant whether she acknowledged it or not.

She didn’t bother pretending not to understand. “I know. That’s why I have to ask you this before you come to the house.”