Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02] (3 page)

“I put it on the table . . . or on the counter or . . .” He paused. “Maybe I better come in and find it,” he said. “Things got a little hectic at the end.”

“Here . . .” Emily handed him the plastic bag. “Carry this, will you?” she asked and shifted the sack into his possession before they headed toward the house together. Watching them walk away was almost painfully poignant. They looked ridiculously pretty, hopelessly vulnerable.

“Cute, huh?” Colt said.

Casie swallowed the tears building up in her throat, pursed her lips into a solid line, and changed the subject with careful single-mindedness. “What did the doctor say?”

Colt shrugged, still watching the pair disappear into the darkness. “She’s doing fine. He’s a little concerned about her blood glucose, but gestational diabetes is a common occurrence, I guess.”

She nodded, as if she had known that little factoid since infancy, and glanced back toward the shadows just ascending the porch steps.

“You might want to cut back on her duties a little, though.” His words were soft, as if his mind was elsewhere.

Casie snapped her attention back toward him. “What?”

He shrugged. “She looks kind of tired.”

She felt her back go up, and though she knew better, opened her mouth immediately. “You think I’m standing over her with a whip or something?”

“Whip? Naw.” He grinned, pulled open the passenger door, and yanked the gun belt out from under the seat where she had stowed it. “I’m thinking these would be more effective.”

A half-dozen razor-sharp rejoinders came to mind, but she kept them at bay and grabbed the tooled leather.

He pulled it closer to his chest, effectively tilting her off balance. They were inches apart. His grin disappeared. She blinked. He cleared his throat. Seconds ticked into the gathering darkness. “He’s not for you, Case,” he said.

She forced herself to breathe and felt her brows rise toward her hairline. “What?”

“Hedley,” he said. “I know he’s got a dreamy smile and the cutest little butt ever.” He said the words in a breathy falsetto, then inhaled as if he was trying to control his temper, which was simply weird because, as far as Casie knew, he didn’t even
have
a temper. Still, his dark eyes snapped. “You don’t want to get involved with him.”

“Well, that’s great because I’m
not
involved with him.”

“Really?” He tilted his head at her. “Cuz if you two get any cuddlier, you’re going to be in the same fix as Emily.”

She felt her jaw drop, heard herself snort. “And this from the man who knows more about women in labor than an obstetrician.”

He narrowed his eyes a little. Flexed his jaw. “I’m just trying to help,” he said.

“Help?” She stepped back a pace. “Is that what you call it when you disappear for months at a time? When you—” She stopped short, since it was apparent that she was losing her mind. After all, she had
told
him to leave . . . had insisted, in fact, that he return to the rodeo circuit. She could manage things on her own. She didn’t need a man in her life. After her ex-fiance’s departure, she was thrilled to be on her own, she’d said. But it was clear now that she hadn’t really expected him to believe her, and the truth of her own disjointed illogic made her temper rise like a springtime flood. “How do you know so much about childbirth anyway?”

He tilted his head at her as if she’d lost her last marble. “Geez, Head Case, is that what’s bothering you?”

“Where did you even hear the word
effacing?
”

“Everyone knows that stuff,” he said.

“I don’t.” Her voice sounded a little pissier than she’d intended and seemed to raise his ire.

“Well, you keep seeing Hedley and you’d better be a quick study.”

She shook her head. “What is it with you and Brooks?”

“Brooks . . .” He said the name with an odd accent, then drew a deep breath, slowed down. “. . . is a jackass.”

“Well, then you two have a lot in—”

“Hey,” Sophie said. Casie jumped, nearly dropping a pistol as she found the girl in the darkness. “What’s up?” Sophie Jaegar had arrived at the Lazy six months ago as a guest. It was hard to say exactly what her role was now.

“Casie is going to become a sharpshooter.” Colt’s voice sounded atypically bad tempered.

“What?” Even in the near darkness of the front yard, Sophie Jaegar was beautiful. Despite a hectic day of giving tours and riding demonstrations, every hair was in place, every fingernail immaculate. Casie had no idea how she did it. Perhaps it had something to do with breeding, or money. Both of which the girl had in spades. Functional family—that’s what she lacked. Hence her original arrival at the Lazy. Her subsequent stay there was a little more complicated.

Colt shrugged. Casie could feel him trying to unwind. Odd. She’d never even known he could
wind.
She felt an evil little tug of satisfaction at the advent of that knowledge. Served him right to get all cranked up after the years he had tormented her in high school.

“How you doing, Soph?” he asked.

The girl glanced at him. While Emily had adored Colt from the day they first met, Sophie was more reserved, about everything. Casie had never appreciated that fact more than she did right now. “You’re skinnier,” she said.

He grinned, seeming amused by his lack of ability to charm her. “Shortage of home cooking on the road. How’s that colt coming along?”

She shrugged, but even in the uncertain light, her enthusiasm was obvious. Damn him and his honest interest in other people. “I’m ground driving him now.”

“Yeah?”

“I bet he’s grown a full hand since you saw him last.”

“You must have him and Ty on the same diet then.”

Sophie pursed her lips at the mention of the boy she had crossed swords with since day one. “I thought he cared about that old mare of his.”

“What?”

“Angel,” she said, referring to the emaciated gray Casie had bought at auction less than a year before. As it turned out, Ty had arrived along with her as an unforeseen bonus. “I thought she was going to keel over right in the cattle pens. He rides her too hard.”

“She loves to work cattle,” Casie said, reluctant to jump into the conversation but no longer able to resist. “She probably just got keyed up.”

“Roberts was the one getting excited,” Sophie said.

They stared at her in tandem. She glanced from one to the other, scowling heavily. “He’d do anything to be the center of attention.”

Colt raised his brows.

Casie tilted her head in dubious uncertainty. If Ty Roberts said fifteen words a day, he was ten words over his limit. Maybe that was because of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his parents, or maybe he was being ultracareful not to cause any problems that might run him afoul of the law. In the past, he had been in some trouble at school. But since Casie had met him, he’d walked the line as carefully as a tightrope artist. “Ty?” she said.

“I mean . . .” Sophie’s scowl darkened even further. “I know he’s not too bright, but I thought he knew better than to overwork a horse that has splints.”

Casie stared at her. The splints on Angel’s forelegs had calcified years ago and were unlikely to bother her. Sophie knew that if anyone did. But Casie didn’t bother to mention it. “Is she okay?” she asked instead.

“It would serve him right if she wasn’t.” Sophie’s shoulders drooped a little.

“Take it easy on him,” Casie said. She kept her tone low. She and Sophie had argued over Ty on more than one occasion, but she didn’t really need Colt to know of their battles. “He’s found something he excels at, something the mare loves. I think it’s good for both of them.”

“You
would
take his side.” Despite Sophie’s frequent acts of maturity, she still had painful teenage outbursts.

“I’m not taking sides,” Casie said. “I’m just saying—”

“And I’m just going to bed,” Sophie said, but she felt the need to add more . . . maybe as a sort of surly apology for being sixteen. “I fed the yearlings. The stalls are cleaned and bedded. Lark has a little thrush in her left front frog. I painted it with iodine.”

“Thank you.”

She nodded, tight lipped, and turned toward the house.

Casie exhaled evenly. The night went quiet as the girl’s footsteps faded into the darkness.

“Kinda cute how you have the fun of raising teenagers when you don’t know anything about giving birth,” Colt said.

Casie’s temper exploded like a time bomb. She pivoted toward him, fists clenched, teeth bared. “Emily was lying.”

“What?” His quizzical expression might have been comical if it wasn’t for the guilt that detonated in Casie’s gut immediately after she dropped the bomb.

“Nothing.” She inhaled, steadied herself, and backed away a step. “It’s nothing. Well . . . maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” she said and turned away, but he caught her arm.

“What do you mean,
nothing?
” He searched her eyes. His were as dark as midnight. “You don’t think Em lied about being in labor, do you?”

She pursed her lips. She appreciated the fact that Colt thought so highly of the little mother-to-be. Really, she did. The girl needed a man in her life who wouldn’t ignore her or seduce her, and Colt had managed that much. So far at least, she thought cattily.

“I’m going to go check on the horses,” she said and tugged at her arm, but he held on.

“You think maybe she’s faking the pregnancy, too, Case? Cuz I’ve gotta tell you, it looks pretty real to me.”

“Well . . .” She gave him her best fake smile. “You’re the expert.”

He scowled at her, shook his head once. “You don’t need to be jealous,” he said.

“Jealous!” She sputtered something inarticulate. “Are you nuts?”

“Could be.” He tilted his head. That old mischievous light shone in his eyes again. “Are you
jealous?
”

“No!”

“Really?” His grin peeked out. She wanted to slap it off his face. Or something. “Cuz it kinda looks like you might be.”

She huffed a laugh. “Listen, if you want to fawn all over a girl who’s half your age, I think that’s great. God knows she’s been neglected most of her life, but—” She stopped, realized his brows had shot toward his Stetson like stray bullets, and wished she could disappear into the earth beneath her feet.

The night went silent. Somewhere far off a cow bellowed. Beyond that a coyote yipped and was answered.

“I meant, you shouldn’t be jealous that she’s pregnant,” he said.

“I . . .” She swallowed, mind spinning. “I know what you meant.”

“She’s not really half our age,” he said. Silence settled in again. “You’re not too old to have kids.”

She felt herself stiffen. “I’m so relieved that you think so.”

“Are you?” he asked and moved a fraction of a step closer.

“No!” she said and yanked her arm out of his grip. “I’m just curious how you know so much about the whole thing.”

He shrugged, a single lift of one lean-muscled shoulder. “I’ve known where babies come from for quite a while, Case.”

“Oh, you’re funny.”

He laughed. “Always have been.”

“Night, Casie,” a voice rumbled from the darkness. A man passed by on her left, little more than a shadow carrying a toolbox.

“Oh . . .” She cleared her throat. “Good night. And thank you.”

He raised a hand and vanished into the darkness.

Dickenson blinked after him. “What’s Will Sommers doing here?”

She shook her head, rarely sure what any of the myriad men were doing who roamed through the Lazy. She only knew that the bunkhouse had been restored, the arena fence was solid as a rock, and the new porch was a sight to behold. Of course,
all
of her neighbors’ efforts weren’t charity. She’d offered Sommers and a dozen others free booths at her symposium. Emily gave away her wares like cider was river water, and the daughters of half the people in town had gotten a free riding lesson or two.

“Listen . . .” she said, getting back on track with some difficulty. “I’m going to take a look at the horses. Then I’m going to bed.”

“Is he here a lot?”

“What? Who?”

“Will. Geez, how many other men are floating around here in the dark?”

She stared at him a second, then said, “Don’t be an ass.”

He gritted his teeth. “Well, not everyone can be the upstanding citizen Hedley is.”

She shook her head at him, honestly confused. “What have you got against Brooks? You two fight over the same buckle bunny or something?”

“Why? You want us to fight over you?”

“I couldn’t care less if you—” she began, but in that second he kissed her.

H
is lips touched hers, firm and warm. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she should do something drastic. She should slap him or curse him or duck and cover, but she was too shocked to move, and then he was slipping his hand beneath her hair, pulling her closer, and suddenly the air was sucked out of her lungs, and every flickering brain cell went limp. For a moment she teetered on the edge of uncertainty, and then her body made an executive decision. Dropping the gun belt, she curled her fingers into his shirt and shoved him up against the pickup truck like a bag of crimped oats.

His left hand was on her butt. She scrabbled with the buttons on his shirt. But they were so damned small. One popped into the air and pinged off the cab like an errant bullet, but she was light-years beyond caring.

He had a chest mounded with muscles that ran down toward abs that bumped a toboggan’s course to the silver buckle cinching his jeans. She flicked his belt open with one simple motion.

“Geez, woman!” The words were little more than a breath of air against her face. “You—”

“Shut up!” she growled and kissed him harder.

He fumbled with the door handle behind her. She stood in the opening, not quite lucid enough to climb inside as she clawed at the zipper on his jeans.

“I’m taking off,” said a voice from the abyss. It took her muzzy mind a full second to recognize the voice as Ty’s.

She gasped and jerked her hands from Colt as if stung. He hissed a curse. Ty strode toward them through the darkness.

“You might want to check on Tangles,” the boy added, just coming into view. “He was acting a little funny.”

“Funny?” Casie’s voice sounded like she was possessed by a demon, and maybe she was. Good God, had she just torn open Colt’s shirt? She slammed the thoughts away and ran a shaky hand over her hair. Colt remained facing his truck, making her wonder if she’d ruined his zipper, too. “Funny, um . . .” She shot her gaze toward Colt. He was buttoning his shirt with lightning-quick fingers. She refrained from closing her eyes. Refrained from groaning. Refrained from hiding under his truck. Holy crap, she was mature. “Funny how?” And what the hell had they just been talking about?

“I don’t know. Maybe it was nothing,” Ty said. “He was just lying down.”

“The dun?” Colt asked.

Casie shot him a glance, hoping like hell that they couldn’t see her blood-infused face.

“Yeah.” Ty shuffled his feet and glanced at Colt as he faced them. “We turned them all out to graze after the shindig was over. Thought he’d be hungry, but he didn’t eat more than an hour or so before he laid down.”

“Did he seem restless or anything?” Casie’s voice sounded a little more normal, though she could feel her heart beating against her ribs like an overzealous blacksmith.

“Not really. Just thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh, okay.” She cleared her throat again and wished she’d quit doing that. “Thanks. I’ll check on him right away.”

“Sure,” Ty said and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. The movement was reminiscent of Colt, or maybe he’d picked up the idiosyncrasy from Colt’s father. The boy had been living on the Dickensons’ neighboring ranch ever since Casie had had a run-in with his mother some months before. The fallout from that debacle was still falling out, something Casie was careful not to let Ty know about. Despite his carefully maintained veneer, the boy had wounds too raw to be ignored. “Well, good night.”

“Yeah,” Casie said. “Thanks for your help today.”

“Sure,” he said and backed away.

“I’ll, um . . . I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded once and then he was gone, swallowed into the darkness. Since the Dickensons’ Red Horse Ranch was less than a half mile down the road, he often insisted on walking.

Casie stared at the spot where he’d disappeared until her eyes watered.

“You okay?” Colt’s voice sounded a little funny.

“Yes. Sure. Of course. Well . . .” She backed away, knees wobbly. “I’m just going to . . .” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “. . . check on . . .” Holy Hannah. She couldn’t remember the horse’s name. “On . . .”

He tilted his head at her. “Tangles.”

“Yes!”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No!” The word exploded from her lips. She tried a smile. It didn’t feel any steadier than her knees. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you want to get home.”

“I don’t,” he said and made an odd noise.

She stared at him. Was that laughter? Was he laughing? Because this situation was
not
funny. This situation was light-years from being funny.

But when she studied him with narrowed eyes, she realized she could just make out the slant of his devilish grin.

He cleared his throat, fought down the grin before she had a chance to slap it off his face, and shifted his attention toward his scruffy boots. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, glancing up past the brim of his hat. “Cuz you seem kind of . . .” He shrugged. “Embarrassed.”

She inhaled through her nostrils. “I’m fine,” she said again and turned away. For one exhilarating second she almost thought she’d escaped, but then she heard his footsteps on the gravel behind her. She closed her eyes and walked faster, but the horses weren’t far away. Just past the windmill she could see their dark shapes. She ducked between the twisted wires and approached them, hoping, at least, that the fence would slow her stalker down, but it didn’t. She pulled a peppermint candy out of her pocket and offered it to the nearest animal. Reaching out, Tangles took the treat between his teeth and munched, nodding happily as the others gathered around.

“They all here?” Colt asked.

She scanned the two herds, separated by gender to prevent problems, four males on one side of the fence, five females on the other. Nine horses in all. “Looks like it.”

“Everybody seems okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe the dun was just tired.”

“Maybe.”

“Sophie rode him kind of hard.”

“Yeah.”

“I never saw a western dressage performance before.”

“It’s a pretty new discipline.”

“She’s a heck of a rider.”

She closed her eyes, remembered to breathe, and pulled out another piece of candy. The night was quiet. Somewhere not far away an owl called for its mate.

“You’re
not
embarrassed, are you?” There was laughter in his voice. She gritted her teeth and tried to make herself turn toward him. No go.

“Casie?”

“No,” she said and offered Blue the peppermint. The gray colt snatched it from her hands and trotted away, knees lifting in a jaunty manner that belied the sorry condition in which he had arrived at the ranch. “Of course not.”

The other horses were beginning to crowd in hopefully.

“Cuz you shouldn’t be. I mean, it was just a kiss, right?”

She tried to speak. Failed again.

“Case?”

“Right,” she said. “Of course. Just a . . .” She couldn’t force out the last word.

“Kiss.” He finished for her. “And the . . . and the shirt thing. You didn’t see where that button went, did you?”

Oh God.

“Well, never mind, maybe one of the kids will find it. I’ll ask them tomorrow when—”

“Don’t you dare!” She swung toward him like a missile.

He was grinning, which meant he was probably teasing her. She hated it when he teased her. She crunched her hands into fists.

“Now don’t go getting all riled up,” he said. “This is no big deal.”

“Not to you!” She practically spat the words.

He tilted his head a little, Stetson cocked to the right. “But it was to—”

“I’m their . . .” She waved a hand. The motion may have seemed a little wild as she tried to think of appropriate words. “Their mentor. I can’t be seen . . .” She sputtered a little.

He nodded, as if trying to help her spit out the applicable words. “Kissing,” he said.

She closed her eyes and groaned. He laughed out loud. “Geez, Casie, ease up. It was just a kiss. Don’t get all cranked out of shape. I’m sure the boy’s seen people kiss before. It’s just—”

“You think he
knows?!
”

“What?”

“You think he knows I . . . we . . . were . . .”

“Kissing?”

“Yes.”

For a moment she thought he would laugh again, but the man wasn’t, apparently, a complete idiot. Besides, they’d known each other for a score of years. He’d seen her at her craziest and probably didn’t care to witness such a thing again. He shook his head. “No. Naw. Probably not.”

“Really?” She was grasping at straws, desperately searching his face for sincerity. But in that instant she realized that his collar was off-kilter. Skimming her gaze down his chest she saw now that his entire shirt was kittywampus. She quit breathing.

“What?” he asked and glanced down.

“Your shirt’s buttoned wrong.”

“What?”

“Your
shirt
is buttoned wrong.” Her voice had risen a couple of octaves and a number of decibels.

“Now just settle down,” he crooned. “You’re scaring the horses.”

“The horses are fine!
Emily’s
fine!” She leaned toward him, anger erupting. “You’re the problem!” She stabbed at his chest, which she remembered as dark and broad and hard as granite. How the devil was she supposed to think coherently when his chest was . . . his chest?

“Me?” He sounded genuinely confused. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe he
was
a complete idiot. “How do you figure?”

“How do I—” She threw up her hands. Had she really torn open his shirt? “You disappear for months on end, then show up like some knight in—” She stopped herself with an effort.

He was staring at her. She pursed her lips. He narrowed his eyes.

“You said you didn’t want me here, Case.”

“I didn’t.”

“You didn’t say that or you didn’t want me here?”

“I said I didn’t
need
you here.”

“But you do
want
me?” His voice was breathy. He took a step forward.

She stepped back. Was he out of his mind? She’d torn a button off his shirt in her haste to . . . “No. I . . .” She shook her head, trying to joggle out the unwanted thoughts. “You’re twisting my words.”

He took another step forward, eyes narrowed. “Then say what you mean, Case. Now’s the time.”

She swallowed, found his eyes in the darkness. “I don’t . . . Men . . .” She paused, trying to think, trying to breathe. “Bradley . . . My fiancé,” she explained, as if he might have forgotten the name of the man whose nose he had broken not six months earlier. “I thought I’d be with him forever. But he’s . . . he’s gone.”

“Brad’s a moron.” His words were absolutely level, earnest, matter-of-fact. And very likely correct.

“You left, too.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Seemed to me like maybe you had a few things to figure out.”

“Don’t put this on me,” she said.

He watched her.

She gestured wildly, then managed a wheezy laugh. “Geez, Dickenson, you’re a rodeo cowboy. There couldn’t be anyone less likely to settle down.”

“That
your
opinion or your ex-fiancé’s?”

She exhaled sharply in disbelief. “Are you saying this doesn’t scare you?”

“This?” he asked.

She swung her hand sideways. “Money troubles, pregnant teenagers, pending lawsuits, rank horses . . .” She laughed. It sounded maniacal. “Choose your poison.”

He watched her in silence for a moment. “Lawsuits?” he asked.

“Good choice,” she said, and feeling inordinately tired suddenly, glanced toward the soothing hills that had framed her world for most of her life.

“What lawsuits?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Probably nothing will come of it. I mean . . . it’s been months already. It’ll probably never go to court.”

“What lawsuits?” he repeated.

She scowled into the distance. “She’s claiming I’m unstable.”

He remained silent.

“Said I gave her a concussion. Says she’s in constant pain, that she has to medicate to relieve the agony.” She laughed. “Holy Hannah, she was three sheets to the wind at seven o’clock in the morning.”

“Ty’s mom,” he guessed.

She didn’t respond. Hadn’t she learned not to depend on a man for help? Wasn’t she better than that? She inhaled carefully. He stepped toward her, curled his hands around her arms.

“The boy’s parents are suing you?”

She winced despite her resolve to be strong. “Guess his mom is kind of carrying a grudge.”

She could feel his gaze on her, and when she shifted her eyes to his, she scowled. Was he grinning?

“Is something funny?” she asked.

“You
did
beat the living crap out of her,” he said.

“This is not amusing!”

“No. It’s . . .
amazing!
” he said.

For a second she was mesmerized by the light in his eyes, by the warmth in his voice. Did she see admiration there? she wondered, but she shook the thought away. “What’s wrong with you?” she snarled and jerked out of his grip. “I attacked another woman. A mother! I must have been nuts. Bradley was right. This place is making me crazy.”

“She beat Ty,” he said. “Left bruises. Left
scars!
” There was danger in his voice suddenly, anger in his face. “Does it really seem crazy that you’d try to protect him?”

“I . . .” Why did he make it all sound so logical? She wasn’t a violent person. Usually. “He’s so young.”

“I know.” He nodded. “But he’s doing okay. He’s a hard worker, dependable, good with the livestock.”

“He deserves better.”

“Dad’s doing the best he can.”

“I didn’t mean . . .” She shook her head, feeling manic. “Your parents are fantastic. I can’t thank them enough for taking him in. I mean . . . I’d keep Ty at the Lazy if I could, but with the girls here . . .”