Rocky Mountain Wife (3 page)

It made her wonder what else he had that might be huge, too.

Claire!
Don’t think like that!
She blushed, scolding herself even as Joshua frowned at her.

“Didn’t I tell you to get back in the house?” He arched a brow, tossing the broken spoke aside. “It’s too cold out here for you. The storm’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

“It just doesn’t seem right to leave you out here.” She bit her bottom lip, looking undecided. “If you’re determined to fix it, why don’t you come back tomorrow?”

“No.” He didn’t look at her as he scooped up a new spoke and the hammer from the sodden ground. “I work better alone. Or are you sticking around because you’re afraid I’ll want something for this, too?”

“No. I don’t believe that about you.” Rain had darkened her hair to a deep honey, plastering it to her head. A stray lock curled against her cheek, clinging there, making her look vulnerable. “Not anymore. You’re doing this for Clay. I know he mentioned you quite a bit over the years. I guess I didn’t realize you were friends.”

“We weren’t. But he was always neighborly to me. Always.” He paused, driving the spoke home. “I owe him a good turn. I’m a man who pays his debts. That’s all. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m not trying to buy a tussle beneath your skirts, the way I’m guessing Oliver Sanders tried to do a few moments ago.”

“How did you know?” Her eyes widened, startled. Heat turned her delicate face pink.

He checked the rest of the wheel, making sure it was good. “I was getting a new spoke out of the back of my wagon. Don’t think I was spying on you. I just couldn’t help seeing him leering, and how you looked ready to take a piece out of him for it.”

“Clay always said I had a temper. I’ve learned to control it better over the years. There was a time when I wouldn’t have just thought about taking the broom to him. I really would have done it.”

Joshua smiled. It wasn’t something he did often. He rose to his feet, hammer in hand. “The rest of the wheels look good. They should get you wherever you need to go. Will you be packing up and leaving soon?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned at her. “Are you waiting until they toss you out of the house?”

“No, I just meant that I have no idea.” She looked bedraggled standing there in the rain, wet clear through. Misery shadowed her eyes.

He felt sorry for her. He felt all sorts of things for her he shouldn’t be feeling—things he didn’t
want
to feel. Not at all. “You ought to have a plan. You have your daughter to think of. You can’t pretend this isn’t happening and suddenly find yourself homeless with no plans.”

“Look, it’s not as if I don’t know that. I just—” She fell silent and stared at the ground.

Fine, he could see what was happening here. She’d been a well-cared-for wife, sheltered and doted on by Clay when he’d been alive. Clay had done all the worrying and figuring out for her. And who could blame him? Joshua paced over to his wagon parked in the doorway of the barn and tossed his hammer in the back. Claire was classically beautiful with flawless skin and china doll features. She was fragile and petite, just a bit of a thing. She was made for being taken care of, not made for the hard and weary work of making her way in this world.

Burdened, he headed back to her. “We both know you can’t go living out of your wagon. That’s not right. It’s not safe. Clay wouldn’t want it.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Frustration pitched her voice a few notes higher. “I—”

A brilliant flash of light sailed over the sky to the southeast. It sizzled through the clouds, forking for what seemed like miles. When the thunder crashed, it boomed loud and long enough to shake the ground.

“C’mon.” He grabbed her hand, slick with rain and warm, so warm. He winced, trying to ignore the bolt of lust that jolted through him with the force and speed of lightning. His cock jumped again, and he was glad he was running so he could pretend it hadn’t happened. No way did he want to be attracted to his neighbor’s wife.

They wove around his wagon and horses and deeper into the barn. Lightning flashed, spearing through the slats in the boards, so bright, it seared the eyes. Thunder cracked, shaking the barn. Wet, out of breath, he let go of her.

“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” he asked, already guessing the answer.

“No.” Her admission came quietly, and she stared down at her shawl. Water dripped off the fringe.

It was easy to feel sorry for her. Just like it was easy to remember the shape and size of her nipples. He cleared his throat. “No family? No friends?”

“My mother lives out back. She’s my only living relative. And my friends—well, they have troubles of their own. I refuse to be a burden to them. No, I can manage.

“How?”

“I’ll think of something.” She lifted her chin, determined.

He had to admire her gumption, but he wasn’t fooled. The world was a harsh place for a woman on her own. He planted his hands on his hips. “Then why won’t you take my offer? I want the land, nothing more.
Nothing
more.”

She looked him up and down skeptically. He knew what she saw when she looked at him. A man a little too big, a little too tall. He felt awkward when she stared at his large hands. He bunched them into fists. He was rough, he knew he was no prize that women simpered over. Women didn’t flirt with him when he went to town. He’d reached thirty-three years of age without finding a woman who would marry him. He couldn’t help what he was, and he wouldn’t be ashamed of it.

“Clay always said you were an honest man.” She held out her slender hand. “I can’t think why you would want to take over a ranch that isn’t worth the mortgage you’ll be getting, but I’ll sign the papers. On one condition.”

“You name it.”

“I pay you a fair rent.”

“I don’t feel right about that.”

“I pay you, or we don’t have a deal.” Her mouth tightened into a stubborn, beautiful line.

It doesn’t have to be much of a rent,
he thought, nodding reluctantly. He caught her hand in his and shook. “We have a deal.”

Lightning zapped through him like a strike, nearly knocking him off his feet. That jolt arrowed straight through him, like a charge detonating. His chest pounded crazily.

Ignore it,
he told himself. Gritting his teeth, he shook her hand and released it.

The charge thrummed in his veins, refusing to stop.

She smelled like lilacs and lemons when she stepped away. “Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Reed—”

“Joshua,” he corrected.

“Joshua.” She brushed the wet lock of hair off her face. “Then you must call me Claire.”

“Okay.” He swept off his Stetson and shook off the rainwater. “I’ll talk to the banker in the morning. I don’t see why they won’t want my money instead of going to the expense of foreclosing and then auctioning off the property. I’ve been told bankers like money.”

“Clay always used to say the same.” She noticed her shawl was slipping off one shoulder and hiked it up, making sure the garment properly covered the wet front of her dress. Her cheeks heated, remembering how thin that cotton was. She looked away, staring down the length of the barn aisle toward the open back door. She had a perfect view of the orchard and the fields beyond and hoped that Ivy had come in out of the rain. “At least the crops are getting enough water today.”

“True.” A hint of amusement rang in his voice. “Who did you hire to sow them for you?”

“I did it.”

“You?” He sounded surprised and dismayed.

“What’s the matter? You don’t think a woman is capable of planting a field?” She arched a brow at him, realizing too late that she’d turned to face him and noticed this time the one detail she hadn’t before.

Joshua’s shirt was wet clean through, plastered to his chest. Her eyes widened at the delineation of muscle, iron-hard contours and sun-browned skin. She gulped, staring at the mat of dark hair—not too much and not too little—swirling down his abdomen. Her gaze drifted lower, to where his rain-drenched trousers hugged his groin, revealing every curve and line.
Every curve and every line.

Claire gulped, her gaze riveted to the significantly long outline of his penis. Goodness, she’d never seen anything like it. She could plainly see the rim, wide and attractive, flaring out from the shaft, wide and intriguing, and she licked her lips.

Goodness! What was she doing?
Horrified, she jerked her gaze away, staring hard at the boards overhead. A few blades of hay poked through the boards from the loft above. A cold gust of wind burst through the doors, hitting her hard and cooling her face. It couldn’t cool her reaction.

She’d never been so aware of a man. Her skin tingled. She felt an ache deep in her womb. Her nipples pebbled as she readjusted her shawl. She glanced down to make sure they were well covered. She couldn’t will her arousal away. Well, it was just a woman’s natural hungers and an old frustration. Even before Clay’s death, it had been a long time since he’d touched her.

A very, very, very long time.

“Looks like the lightning is heading away from us.” Joshua adjusted his hat. “Will you be all right? Is there something you need help with before I leave? Windows to close? Shutters to batten down?”

“No, I can handle it,” she croaked, her hand flying to her throat. She couldn’t get the image of what she’d seen out of her mind, the shape of him, the size.

Needs she’d denied for years blazed to life, fierce and vibrating between her legs. She wanted the feel of a man there, the stretch and pull as he moved inside her, the stroke and the tight, aching pleasure. Her breathing kicked up. Could he hear the change in it?

Embarrassed, she turned away, facing the icy wind. “You’d better get home while you can. You never know what a storm like this is going to do.”

“At least let me close up the barn—” He strode away, his sodden trousers tight to his rear-end, showing off every muscled curve. She squeezed her eyes shut, trembling with the force of a sexual hunger so strong, it beat like a war cry in her veins.

“No!” She heard the desperation in her voice, grimacing. She could feel the hard nub of her left nipple against the curve of her hand as she clung tightly to her shawl. “I mean, you don’t need to go to the trouble.”

“Trouble? It’s my barn now. We have an agreement.” His words boomed like steel as he hefted the heavy barn door shut as if it weighed nothing at all.

Don’t watch the flex and play of those muscles,
she told herself. Do not look at anything else, especially below his belt buckle.

But her eyes drifted south anyway and she swallowed hard. Her fingers itched, wanting what she could not have. She really needed to get control of her thoughts.

“You’ll be more comfortable in your house.” His tone cut through her thoughts. He stared at her hard, his forehead furrowed, his chiseled mouth frowning.

She really hoped he had no idea what she’d been thinking.

“Go in. I’ll shut the barn up after you.” He probably meant the words to be kind, but they felt cold and harsh somehow, like the storm outside, ready to turn in an instant.

She didn’t trust her voice. She nodded, hurrying down the aisle, around Clay’s horses tied to the back of Joshua’s wagon and into the beat of the cold rain. Thunder cannoned in the distance as she raced through puddles toward the house.

“Ma! Where’d you go?” Ivy asked when the kitchen door swung open. The girl looked puzzled as thunder clapped in the distance. “I set the table and everything. Without you tellin’ me, too.”

“Thank you. You’re a good girl, Ivy.” Claire rushed over the threshold and slammed the door behind her. So, they would be staying here. Joshua Reed’s offer would save her from taking her daughter from the only home she’d ever known.

Because of him, Claire could stay here, where happy memories of her husband and their marriage lived.

Grateful, she slipped out of her shawl, her gaze searching through the window for any sign of the man in the storm. There was only the faint shadow of him through the veil of pouring rain. Then nothing—nothing at all.

Joshua untied the last two horses from the back of his wagon and ran with them into the shelter of his little barn. Horses neighed. Overhead the stray cat that had taken up residence darted into the shadows in the loft. He wiped down the draft horses and settled them into the last two empty stalls, listening to the rain pelt down with a vengeance.

Hell, he was wet clean through so that his socks sloshed in his boots. He peered out at the angry black sky. It sure didn’t look as if it was going to give up soon. After he fed and watered the animals, he took a moment to study the sky. As bad as it was, he feared the worst was to come. He studied his acres and acres of wheat and corn, the plants still small and fragile but thriving in the surrounding fields. He sure hoped he was wrong about the weather.

Rain chased him across the yard and down the road to his small house on the rise. Just three rooms, nothing fancy, but it was all he needed. In truth, it was the nicest place he’d ever lived in. Rain hammered on the roof as he kicked off his boots in the lean-to. Rain blurred the windows as he crossed the kitchen and hunkered down to get the stove lit.

Loneliness echoed around him with every rustle of his clothes and every squeak of the stove door. He didn’t mind so much—he’d grown used to it. He added wood, climbed to his feet and adjusted the damper. The fire crackled and popped as he grabbed a can of beans from the pantry. This was his nightly ritual—warming a can of food, eating as he leafed through the newspaper, hunkering down in the corner to read until bedtime.

But tonight was different. He couldn’t help wondering how Claire Callahan was getting along. As dusk fell and the storm raged, he imagined her getting supper for her little girl. She’d be standing at the stove, her golden hair drying in the heat and steam as she checked the potatoes boiling in a pot. Maybe her dress was dry too—

His throat went dry and he swallowed, remembering what he’d seen. His heart kicked in his chest, and he grabbed a pot for the beans. What a sorry state he was in, all worked up over a woman he could never have. That’s what came when a man went lonely for way too long.