The Legacy of Copper Creek (5 page)

“You know what, Goldilocks? You've got a wicked-sharp tongue.” He picked up the ax and set another log in place before splitting it in one clean cut.

As she walked toward the cabin carrying an armload of logs, he paused and watched the sway of her hips, the haughty toss of her head.

Was this another act? Hadn't she been at all affected by his kiss? Or had she been so hurt by her encounter with Jared that she expected the worst from all men?

He gave a thoughtful frown.

He'd been right to think she was trouble. And if he wasn't careful, by the time he was able to leave this place, he might be in a whole pile of it.

S
omething smells great.” Whit deposited an armload of logs on the hearth.

He'd spent another hour or more chopping wood, working off the restless energy brought on by the close proximity to his uninvited cabin mate.

Cara looked from the table where she was cutting thick squares of something in a skillet. “I found a can of salmon and decided I'd like to do something with it.”

“If it tastes half as good as it smells, I may be forced to admit you're a cooking genius.”

“Careful. I may hold you to that.” She walked to the fireplace and removed a cookie tin on which she'd toasted narrow strips of bread crusted with bubbling Parmesan cheese.

Whit rolled his sleeves and washed his hands before filling two glasses with ice-cold water.

He winked as he took a seat at the table. “The one thing we have up here is plenty of freezing water.”

“As I discovered when I took my first shower.”

“I'll bet that was a shock.” Whit helped himself to one of the squares of salmon and a strip of the Parmesan toast.

After his first bite, he looked over in surprise. “Wow. This is even better than it smells. What is this?”

“Salmon loaf. Gram used to make it, and I tried to duplicate it as much as I could. I made bread crumbs, and instead of fresh onion I used onion salt. A little Worcestershire sauce, some hot pepper sauce, and whatever I could find in those cupboards.”

Whit polished off the first slice and helped himself to a second, larger slice. “Maybe you ought to think about writing a cookbook to go along with your illustrated children's book.”

That had her scowling. “You must be hallucinating. You're beginning to sound like I used to, when I believed in my pipe dream.”

“Hey, Goldilocks. Every success has to start with a dream. Why not yours?”

While he polished off a third slice of salmon loaf, she sat back with a thoughtful look. She wished she'd never told him the truth. It was easier giving up on her dream when nobody else knew about it. But right now, even though she was convinced that her dreams would never materialize, she couldn't help feeling a quick tug at her heart over his words.

She glanced toward the blazing logs. “When I first got here, it was mild enough that I didn't even need a fire at night. When the temperature started dropping, I was glad for the meager pile of logs. I never dreamed this area would be hit by a blizzard.” She sipped her water. “I wonder what would have happened if you hadn't come along. All I had was that thin jacket and enough wood to see me through the night. I'm wondering now if I could have managed to chop enough wood to keep from freezing.”

“Good thing you didn't have to find out.”

“Yeah.” She crossed to the fire and placed the coffeemaker on the grill set over the logs. Within minutes the little cabin was filled with the wonderful aroma of coffee.

Whit watched the ease with which she'd managed to do the difficult things that would have been so simple back at his ranch. Things that seemed more in line with his grandfather's early years. Cooking over a fire. Taking an ice-cold shower. And all without complaint.

“I think, if I hadn't come along, you'd have managed just fine on your own, Goldilocks.”

“Well, I suppose I could always burn the furniture.” She shot him a sly smile. “Though I'm not so sure you and your family would be sympathetic.”

“No doubt about it, Mad would have had the law on your trail.” He opened a cabinet door and retrieved a deck of cards. “Since you beat me so badly at word games, how about a few hands of poker?”

“Can't stand losing?” She grinned. “Okay. Deal the cards and I'll pour two mugs of coffee.”

When she returned to the table, she placed a plate of delicate butter cookies to one side. “I found a sealed tin of these in the pantry. Gram used to bake something like these every Christmas.” She reached for one. “Not that I expect them to be as good as Gram's.”

Whit popped one into his mouth as he picked up the cards and studied them. After his first bite, he raised a brow. “Hey, these are good.”

Cara nodded. “Almost as good as Gram's. What are we playing for? More pennies?”

He thought a minute. “Tell you what. My feet are still frozen. I say the loser has to give the winner a foot bath and foot massage.” He looked over with a gleam of laughter in his eyes. “Deal?”

Cara wrinkled her nose before glancing toward his worn boots dripping beside the door. “It's a good thing I'm going to win. I'd hate to have to get up close and personal with feet that have been stuck in those smelly boots all day.”

As he took a sip of coffee and reached for another cookie, his grin deepened. “Goldilocks, this smelly old bear is going to thoroughly enjoy beating your…hide.”

“You're so full of yourself.” She topped off their cups before picking up her cards.

For the next few hours, as they drank the entire pot of coffee and emptied the plate of butter cookies, they went through hand after hand of poker, their voices and laughter growing with each win and loss.

While they played, Cara asked endless questions about Whit's family, which he happily described to her, explaining about Ash and his childhood love, Brenna, and Griff, the brother he never even knew about until his father's sudden, shocking death.

“And now Griff's bride, Juliet, has two little boys? How do you like being an uncle?”

“That's the best part about acquiring more family. They've got Mad wrapped around their fingers. And they say the darndest things. My mom has discovered the joy of being an instant grandmother.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “In truth, our ranch has turned into a land of sugar and spice, with those two females added to the family. Sometimes I just have to get away by myself, to remember how it used to be.”

“Spoken like a guy who seems determined to remain a bachelor.”

“You got that right. The female wasn't born who'll lead me down the garden path.” Whit had the smug look of a man holding a winning hand. “Okay, Goldilocks. We've each won ten games. This is the one that will tell the tale. Has the lady been enjoying beginner's luck? Or is she actually a card shark hoping to swallow some poor, unwitting fish?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

He grinned. “How many cards?”

She returned his slow, easy smile with one of her own. “None. I'll play these.”

His eyebrow lifted just a bit as he discarded two cards and took two from the deck.

After glancing at his cards, he gave her a long look. “I'll give you a chance to up the ante. How about the loser throwing in a back rub along with that foot massage?”

The corners of her lips twitched. “I think I'd enjoy that a whole lot. Okay. You're on.”

He gave a slight nod of his head. “Ladies first.”

She made a grand sweep of her hand. “I'll let the loser go first.”

“Suit yourself.” He lay down his hand, displaying three aces and two kings.

Cara stared at them for long seconds, her confident smile fading as she lay down her cards.

“Why, Goldilocks, you poor little thing. I can see why you were looking so smug. Ordinarily three queens and two deuces would be worth a king's ransom. Unless, of course, you're playing Whit MacKenzie.” He stretched his arms high over his head and gave a mock sigh. “I guess I forgot to tell you I'm considered the luckiest poker player who ever set foot in Wylie's Saloon in Copper Creek.”

“You're lucky, all right. But you had to draw two cards to beat me.”

“A win is a win. Besides, all's fair in love and poker.”

As she pushed away from the table and warmed a dishpan filled with water over the hot logs, Whit peeled off his socks and rolled up the legs of his faded denims. Then he settled himself into the rocker, all the while whistling a happy tune.

A short time later, Cara placed the steaming pan of water on a towel and poured a liberal amount of liquid soap.

“I hope it's warm enough.”

“I could always add a dash of hot sauce.”

“Woman. A hot cowboy like me doesn't need help from a jar of sauce.”

He dipped a toe, then a foot, and then both feet. “It's perfect.”

“I'll let you soak those smelly feet before I attempt a massage.”

“Coward.” A huge smile split his lips. “I'll let you know if the water gets too cool.”

“I'm sure you will.”

She walked away and started a second pot of coffee before filling the plate with more cookies.

When she offered him one, he shook his head. “I've had enough. But when the coffee's ready, I'll have a splash of whiskey in mine.”

“I guess you're hoping to be warm inside and out.”

“A man can never be too hot.” He was humming as she moved around the kitchen, storing the cookies, putting away the last of the dinner items in the small pantry.

When she handed him a steaming cup of coffee laced with whiskey, Whit lifted his feet from the tepid water and settled them on the towel she'd provided.

She looked over. “You've had enough?”

“More than.” He indicated a second chair. “I'm ready for my foot massage now.”

“Is there any lotion I can use?”

He pointed to the tiny bathroom. “There's a tube of cream we use when our skin cracks from the sun and wind. I guess that ought to do the job.”

She returned with it and lifted his feet to her lap as she sat and began massaging the cream into the soles of his feet.

She looked at him in surprise. “Your skin's soft. How can a cowboy who's on his feet all his life in tall leather boots have such soft skin?”

“I come from good stock. How about you, Goldilocks? Aren't your feet soft?”

“Not as soft as yours.”

“You may have to let me rub your feet later.” At her look, he added quickly, “Just so I can compare.”

“Is that what you have in mind?”

“I don't think you want to know what's in my mind, Goldilocks. Especially right at the moment.”

She ducked her head and bent to her work, her hair drifting forward.

Whit sipped his coffee and watched her through narrowed eyes. He liked looking at her when she was unaware. At times like this, there was a sweetness, a serenity about her that had him smiling.

She looked up. “I guess, from that smug smile, you're enjoying this.”

“You'll never know just how much, Goldilocks.”

She laughed. “At least all that soap and lotion keeps you from smelling like Papa Bear.”

“That's good.” He took another long sip of coffee laced with whiskey. “Because right now I'm not feeling much like a bear. But I am feeling like a king in his castle.”

“Just so you realize I'm not the king's wench.”

That had him laughing out loud. “Damn. And I was so hoping I could get you to do my bidding.”

“You've got about five more minutes of pampering, Your Majesty, and then your bubble is about to burst.”

“Have you forgotten my back rub?”

It was clear, from the look on her face, that she had completely forgotten.

To her credit, she bit back the words that sprang to her lips and merely gritted her teeth in silence.

Whit gave a sigh. “My feet feel as soft as a newborn calf's hide.”

“And that's no bull.”

At her little joke, he huffed out a chuckle before allowing his head to fall back.

Soothed by the feel of her hands on his feet, and completely relaxed from the warmth of the fire and whiskey, he dozed.

Cara felt the change in Whit as he slipped ever so slowly into sleep.

Her hands slowed their movements. She studied his face. He had the rugged good looks of a man who labored outdoors. Tanned skin. A firm jaw. Straight nose. Perfectly formed mouth.

She allowed her gaze to roam that face, those lips, and her heartbeat suddenly quickened at the thought of that mouth on hers.

That surprise kiss hadn't been at all like most kisses. But then, she thought, Whit MacKenzie wasn't like most guys she knew. Even though he was handsome, he didn't seem aware of his looks. And though he'd caught her in a very vulnerable situation, he hadn't used it against her as some might have.

Not that this cowboy was any kind of saint. But at least when he'd realized that his kiss had been out of line, he'd had the decency to step back and give her some space.

He may not be a saint, but he was fun and easy to be around. And that couldn't be said for every guy she knew.

Speaking of fun…She had a sudden thought. What would Whit MacKenzie's reaction be if he awoke and found his toenails painted candy-apple red?

She crossed to the hooks by the door and dug through her purse until she found the small bottle of polish. She worked quickly, eager to finish before he awoke.

When she was done, she returned the bottle to her purse and took her seat at his feet, just as she felt him beginning to stir.

O
kay, Goldilocks.” Whit's eyes blinked as he struggled to wake. “I guess I've had enough. Now it's time for that back rub.”

Cara let his feet drop to the floor.

He crossed to the bunk and slipped off his plaid shirt before stretching out on the blankets.

Cara squeezed lotion into her hands and began smoothing it over his skin. The minute her hands touched his flesh, she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She was grateful Whit couldn't see her face. This was infinitely more awkward than she'd expected.

Determined to keep things light between them, she muttered, “I hope Your Majesty approves.”

“Mmm.” It was all he could manage.

When the silence stretched out, Cara glanced at his face. “Are you asleep again?”

“Hmm?” Whit feigned sleep, though in truth, the feel of those hands on his bare flesh was sending shock waves coursing through him. He may have been nearly comatose earlier, but now he was suddenly, shockingly awake and alert.

“There's something wrong with this picture,” she said accusingly. “Here I am, slaving over a back rub while you're the picture of contentment.”

“I wouldn't exactly call it contentment, Goldilocks. It's more like electricity. And if you're not careful with those hands, I may blow not just a fuse, but a transformer.”

“That might be fun to watch.” She poured lotion into her palm and began rubbing it over his shoulders.

He sighed and clenched his hands, causing the muscles of his upper arms to tense and bunch.

Fascinated, Cara rubbed the lotion down his arms, then up and over his back, before moving her hands along his sides.

“Careful, Goldilocks.”

The sensual thrill racing along his spine had him reaching out without a thought to the consequences.

In one quick movement, he rolled over, keeping both of her hands in his. Before she could react, he dragged her down until her body was pressed firmly to his.

Her mouth was open in surprise, until it met his.

“Whit…” She whispered the word inside his mouth, inflaming him even more.

His hands moved over her back, drawing her fully against him, making her achingly aware of his arousal.

Even though she tried to push away, his hands lifted to frame her face while he kissed her with a thoroughness that had them both gasping for air.

Her hair fanned forward, tickling his naked flesh, adding to his heightened awareness. “God, you taste good, Goldilocks. Mind if I taste a little more?”

“No, Whit. Don't…”

At the alarm in her voice, he went suddenly still.

His gaze sharpened as he caught the fear in those green eyes before she blinked and looked away.

“Sorry.” In one swift movement, he rolled her aside and got to his feet. “Blame it on the fact that I wasn't in control of my senses.”

That's when he caught sight of the red on his toenails. “What the hell…?”

Cara couldn't help herself. Despite the combination of fear and sexual tingle still racing through her veins, she burst into gales of laughter while backing away from him.

“I think every cowboy should have candy-apple-red toenails at least once in his life.”

She waited for his furious reaction.

With a howl he was across the room, grabbing her in a bear hug while convulsing with laughter.

For long minutes they stood together, shaking with laughter at the absurdity of what she'd done.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “I should have known you wouldn't just let me get away with all that pleasure without making me pay.”

“Oh, Cowboy, you so deserved it.”

He was still laughing as he dipped his head and kissed her.

“Mmm. You taste so damned good, Goldilocks. I wish…”

He lifted his head and realized that she'd gone as still as a statue.

His expression altered suddenly. “What the hell is wrong with me? When am I going to get it through my thick head…?”

He released her and stepped back. Within moments he was across the room, slipping into his shirt and stepping into his boots before drawing on his parka.

Without even taking the time to say a word, he opened the door of the cabin, sending a chill through the room. The door slammed behind him.

And all she could hear was the crunch of his footsteps on the frozen snow as he stormed into the night, muttering every rich, ripe oath he could think of.

Dazed, Cara climbed to the upper bunk and lay there shivering under the blankets.

What was happening to her? Hadn't she just taken a terrible emotional battering at the hands of an arrogant jerk? Hadn't she come here hoping to hide and lick her wounds?

On top of that, wasn't there a stranger out there who'd looked angry enough to want her dead?

How, then, did she willingly fall into another stranger's arms and play sexy games with him, feeling as if she were somehow safe with him?

Though she'd fully intended to guard herself and her emotions with Whit MacKenzie, there was something about him that made her forget all her good intentions.

Somewhere between the easy humor and the warmth of his lips, she was feeling lost and confused.

Take that kiss. It was just a kiss. But almost from the moment his mouth covered hers, she'd become caught up in the pleasure of that hungry mouth moving over hers. A mouth that knew exactly how to give pleasure. And those hands. Those strong, work-roughened hands that held her as gently as if she were made of fragile glass. And that body pressed to hers. A perfect male body that made her think of things better left forgotten.

She'd felt herself falling into him. And wanting what he offered.

Dangerous thoughts, she knew. But she couldn't seem to control them whenever she got too close to him.

Maybe it was his zany sense of humor. How many men would have laughed it off when they found their nails painted red? It had felt so delicious to finally be able to laugh about something, after all the misery she'd endured.

She lay awake for what seemed an hour or more before the door to the cabin was opened.

She pretended to be asleep while he prowled the cabin, drinking the last of the coffee splashed with scotch and then brooding in front of the fire.

Sometime later she heard Whit pry off his boots and climb into the lower bunk.

At last, hearing his soft, easy breathing, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Whit lay in his bunk, his mood darker than the night. He'd come close to something he wasn't proud of. Here was a young woman fresh off an incident so traumatic she was willing to hide in a shack in the middle of wilderness, and he'd practically ravished her.

The last thing Cara needed right now was some guy coming on to her while she was feeling trapped and all alone, far from civilization.

He'd planned on staying another couple of days, but since the snow had melted enough to open up some trails, the wisest thing they could do was get out of here and back to a place where an abundance of noisy, busy people would make it impossible to think about what he was thinking about right now.

The woman in the bunk overhead. All the things he'd rather be doing with her than lying here thinking.

Just knowing she was there had him sweating.

He punched his pillow and turned on his side. Even a woman as tempting as Cara Walton was no match for the distractions of the MacKenzie ranch and its cast of characters. If there was ever a place where she'd be safe, from him, from the world, it was there. And maybe, if he was able to persuade her to stay awhile, she could regain her faith in herself and her dream.

It was the least he could do to make things up to her.

Cara awoke to the sound of the cabin door closing. A minute later she heard the distinct bite of an ax splitting a log.

She sat up and looked around in alarm. It wasn't even dawn yet. She felt as though she'd just fallen asleep. Why in the world was Whit working at this impossible hour of the day?

With a sigh, she scrambled from her bunk and into the freezing bathroom. Within minutes she'd endured another frigid shower and was dressed.

By the time Whit strolled in with an armload of logs, she had canned ham sizzling over the fire, along with an egg concoction that smelled heavenly.

“Good morning.” She moved aside so Whit could deposit the logs on the hearth.

“Morning.” He stepped away and hung his parka on a hook by the door, avoiding her eyes.

She took note of the distance he kept between them. It could mean only one thing. He regretted that hot little scene last night. She should, too, but in truth, she couldn't get it out of her mind. The way she'd felt when he'd kissed her. The way she fit in his arms, all snug and safe. The fire that had built inside her with every touch, every kiss.

“You're up early.” She carried the skillet to the wooden table.

“Long day ahead of us.”

“Us?” She looked up as he washed his hands and started toward the table.

“Yeah. The temperature climbed overnight, the sun's just coming up, and there's enough snowmelt that the trails are no longer deadly. I figure it's time we headed down to my place.”

“You're inviting me to your ranch?”

“Unless you'd rather stay up here all by yourself.”

She ducked her head to hide her relief. “If you're inviting me, I'm accepting. Just until I figure out where I'll go next.”

He helped himself to ham and eggs and toast. “You're welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“I would think your family will have something to say about that. I'll bet another body in that already overcrowded mob might be as welcome as a skunk at a picnic.”

He fixed her with a look. “Once you meet my family, you'll understand. They like crowds. The more the merrier. After just a day or two, you'll feel like one of us.”

Feel like one of us.

Impossible, of course, but the way he said it had her feeling suddenly hungry.

She heaped her plate and dug in. “What time are we leaving?”

“As soon as we pack up.”

She managed a smile. “That will take me all of a minute. In case you've forgotten, I came here with just the clothes on my back.”

He bit back a grin. “Remember all the garbage and litter that's been produced? We leave nothing behind for the critters.”

“Of course.” She sat back and sipped her coffee. “How could I forget?” She glanced at the overflowing garbage bag. “How does all that fit in your saddlebags?”

“Easy. There's a pit behind the lean-to. I'll burn all I can and carry home what can't be burned.”

“Now you tell me. I was feeling guilty for creating so much litter.”

He winked. “That was the idea, Goldilocks.”

Her heart gave a little flutter at that wink. What was it about this cowboy that he could make her so happy with something so simple?

Whit made a final check of the cabin before climbing into the saddle. He leaned down and eased Cara up behind him.

She marveled at the strength in his grip.

“Warm enough?”

Her voice was muffled against his shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks for the use of the parka.”

“I'm glad you found one that fit you.”

“Well, it's big enough to fit around two of me,” she said with a laugh. “But at least it's warm.”

“You'll need it. At least until we reach a lower level.” He glanced skyward. “But there's no snow in those clouds.”

Old Red moved easily through the melting snow.

Cara wrapped her arms around Whit's waist, feeling again that odd little tingle at the mere touch of him. She was grateful for the width of his shoulders shielding her from the wind.

As they moved leisurely down the snow-covered hills, Cara took the time to study the glorious landscape.

“Oh, Whit. This scenery is so pretty. Do you ever take the time to appreciate what you have?”

“Yeah. It's great, isn't it? I know this part of the country is off the beaten track, and it took the genius of Mad and Pop to see all that it could become, but I never take it for granted. This is the only place I'd ever want to be.”

“I don't blame you. If I had all this land, I'd never want to leave.”

Her words, muffled against his shoulder, had him studying the land with sharper interest. “I do love it. But sometimes I forget to appreciate just how much it cost my father and grandfather to carve out this ranch in the middle of wilderness.”

Halfway down the hills, they moved past the snow line. The trail ahead of them was bright with spring grass.

Whit brought their mount to a halt. He slid from the saddle before helping Cara down.

“Why are we stopping?”

“I don't know about you, but I'm too warm.” He removed his parka and stuffed it into the already filled saddlebag. Cara removed hers and tied the sleeves around her waist.

From the opposite saddlebag, Whit removed a bottle of water and uncapped it before handing it to Cara. She drank, then offered it to him. He drained the bottle and returned the empty to his bag.

Cara grinned. “The no-litter rule.”

“You bet.” He pulled himself into the saddle and helped her up behind him.

Their horse started off along the grassy route with a spring in his step. With the snow behind them, Old Red seemed eager to reach the familiar food and shelter he knew would be at the end of their trail.

Now that the weather had gentled and the sun was high overhead, Cara found herself achingly aware of the muscled thighs pressed to hers and the lean, chiseled body encircled by her arms.

“You're awfully quiet back there.”

“Just enjoying the scenery.” A grin split her lips the moment the words were out of her mouth.

Scenery indeed. Whit MacKenzie could easily pose as a personal trainer for one of those famous workout places scattered across the country.