Thunderbolt over Texas (4 page)

Cole smiled. Then his eyes dimmed. “She's going to be really excited about you.”

Sydney felt a twinge of guilt. Grandmas didn't seem like the kind of people you should lie to.

“Will it be okay?” she asked.

He seemed to ponder the question. “Well, she'll definitely book the church. Probably start baking the cake.”

He brought the horses to a halt but didn't dismount. “You know, if we want to pull this off, we'd better make sure we have our stories straight.”

Trying to lighten the mood, she tossed her hair over her shoulders. “How about you fell head over heels and I'm marrying you out of pity?”

“That'll work.”

“Cole, I was only—”

“It
will
work.”

Katie appeared at the back door, giving an exuberant wave. “Sydney. You're still here?”

Sydney smiled at Katie. “Cole offered to teach me how
to ride,” she called back, deciding it was better to stick to the truth as far as they could.

Katie skipped toward them. “That's fantastic.”

Sydney shifted in her saddle. “It's pretty hard on the butt. I don't know how you guys do it.”

“Callouses,” said Cole as he dismounted. Then he grinned at her. “You'll be developing some soon.”

Was he flirting?

He looked as though he was flirting.

And she'd sure felt a shiver at the reference to her butt.

He walked a few paces and tied his horse. Then he came back for her. “You want some help down?”

“Sure,” she said. It wasn't as if she had a hope of getting off by herself. Plus, her skin was already tingling in anticipation of his hands.

“Kick out both feet,” he instructed. “We don't want you getting hung up.”

She kicked free of the stirrups.

Katie grabbed the bridle and held the horse steady.

“Lean forward and bring the other leg over his back,” said Cole.

She did.

Cole wrapped his hands around her waist and slowly lowered her to the ground.

It wasn't nearly as exciting as mounting the horse, but she got to inhale his scent, and for a second there his body was pressed full length against her back. She shivered deep down inside.

He didn't immediately step away.

“She's catching on pretty well,” he said to Katie. Then he leaned around and brushed a lock of hair from Sydney's cheek. “She'll be running barrels in no time.” He gave her shoulders a little squeeze before shifting away.

Sydney blinked at him in amazement. She'd never met anyone so caring and attentive. It was almost as if… She stopped herself. He was playacting. Wow. He was very good at it.

Katie let go of the horse's bridle and reached for Sydney's hand. “So you
are
staying for a while?”

“Okay with you?” Cole asked.

“Of course it is.” Katie gave Sydney's hand a quick squeeze. “You're welcome to stay with us as long as you like.”

Cole led Clarabelle to the post and tied her alongside his black horse while Katie insisted they come in.

The visit didn't last long before pillars of black clouds moved down the valley. Soon, fat raindrops plunked onto the warm earth and battered against the windows.

Kyle arrived, taking refuge from the storm, shaking his hat and wiping raindrops off his face.

Katie greeted him with a hug and a kiss, and Cole moved up close to Sydney's ear. “Okay,” he whispered, glancing surreptitiously at his brother and sister-in-law. “This is perfect.”

“What? You mean me?” Was she hitting just the right note here?

“No. I mean the rain.”

Oh. Sydney glanced out the window. Perfect wasn't exactly the word she'd use to describe the growing torrent. “Is there a forest fire or something?”

“No. But the horses are all wet now. And so is the tack. It's going to be a miserable ride back to my place.” Cole sounded unnaturally excited by the prospect.

Sydney grimaced. “Well, it doesn't get much more perfect than that, does it?” Her inner thighs chafed at the thought of getting back on a dry saddle, never mind a wet one.

He patted one of her shoulders. “You need to think strategically.”

“Okay.” She nodded slowly, trying to figure out how the rain fit into their plans. Would it flood the road? Maroon them together?

“When Kyle and Katie break it up back there,” said Cole, “I'll suggest we ride home. Kyle will offer to ride Clarabelle, but you insist on doing it yourself.”

Sydney watched the raindrops battering the window pane. “And why would I do that?” Other than a latent masochistic streak.

“You want to be with me, of course. You're dying to spend time with me, because I'm so sexy and irresistible.”

Sydney cocked her head to one side. “How could I possibly forget?”

“I don't know. Thing is, if you're willing to ride a wet horse through a rainstorm, Katie will know you're in deep.”

It made sense, in a wet, squishy, ugly kind of way. Sydney steeled herself. So be it. She was prepared to take one for the Thunderbolt.

“So Kyle knows about the plan?” she asked.

Cole shook his head. “I just came up with it.”

“What if he doesn't offer?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“If he didn't offer, we'd have to kick him out of Texas. Now, no matter what he says, you ride that horse.”

“This is secretly revenge, isn't it?”

Cole tapped the tip of her nose with his index finger. “Nah. When it's revenge, you'll know it.”

 

Cole's plan worked like a charm.

Soon Sydney stood dripping wet and saddle sore in the middle of his cabin. And, though he was just as soaked as
her, he had gallantly lit a fire then gone back outside to take care of the horses.

She'd briefly considered offering to help. But she was exhausted. Instead, she shook the droplets from her hands, finger-combed her hair and glanced around the little room.

She had to admit, the cabin was charming and homey in the rain. It was built of peeled logs that had mellowed to a golden yellow. The floor was hardwood, scattered with rugs, and the walls were decorated with antique pictures and hurricane lamps. The pieces weren't valuable, but she suspected Cole's ancestors had purchased them and handed them down over many generations.

She ran her finger along the stone fireplace mantel as she moved closer to the heat. It was only September, but there was a definite chill in the air. A plaid armchair with a folded knit blanket looked inviting. Too bad she'd soak the upholstery.

Cole returned, banging the door shut behind him.

“You should go get dry,” he said as he pulled off his dripping Stetson and hung it on a peg. “There are a couple of robes on the back of the bathroom door. I'll make us a hot drink.”

“I should do something to help.” Not that she didn't appreciate this gallant he-man stuff. But she was beginning to feel like a dead weight.

He shook off the sleeves of his denim shirt. “Don't worry about it.”

But she did worry about it. He'd agreed to marry her, and she didn't want him to change his mind because he thought she was high maintenance. “Am I keeping you from work?”

He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen window. “In
that?
Are you going to be a nagging wife?”

Sydney couldn't help but smile. “Sorry.”

“Get dried off. I can't marry you if you've got pneumonia.”

She gave up. She left Cole to the teakettle and closeted herself in the tiny bathroom, stripping off her wet clothes. There was barely room to turn around in there. She banged her butt against the pedestal sink and nearly fell into the claw-foot tub. But she managed to strip down, find some towels and rub her skin dry.

She chose a three-quarter-length, plaid flannel robe with buttons all the way up the front. The shoulders drooped halfway to her elbows, and she had to roll up the sleeves, but it was warm and comfortable. She hung her wet clothes over the shower curtain.

They reminded her that she needed to get back to Wichita Falls and check out of her hotel room. She couldn't keep wearing Katie's clothes, and she should really return the rental car.

She cringed, remembering the wires she'd yanked out of the motor. Should she confess the sabotage to Cole, or just wait until it was discovered and pay the damages? Hard to say. Ultimately, she'd rather give up money than mess up her chances with Cole.

She rubbed her hair dry and found a comb. Makeup, she'd have to do without.

When she wandered back into the living room, Cole's gaze slid down her body, lingering on her bare feet. He cleared his throat. “You want some socks?”

She glanced down at the billowing flannel. The tails hung past her knees. “You might have hit on the one way to make this outfit less attractive.”

“You look fine.”

“I look like a refugee from
Little House on the Prairie
.”

Cole chuckled low. “Who cares? I'm a sure thing, remember?”

“That's an excellent point. I've never had a man see me at my worst and not had to care about it.” She sat down in the big armchair and eased her saddle-sore legs under her. This was restful, in a bizarre sort of way.

All those years she'd spent fussing and primping and worrying. Cole could see her in a gunny sack and it wouldn't make a bit of difference. Come to think of it, this was pretty close to a gunny sack.

“This is your worst?” asked Cole.

She smoothed back her wet hair and nodded. “Pretty close.”

“At least there'll be no surprises in our marriage.” He headed into his bedroom.

Sydney leaned back into the soft cushions. He was forcing her to think past the wedding. What would they do? She had to take the Thunderbolt to New York. But what if Katie didn't get pregnant right away?

Would they keep up the charade? And if they did, would Sydney stay
here?

She scanned the cabin again. It was a quaint little place. Maybe too quaint.

The kettle let out a shrill whistle. She waited a couple seconds, but Cole didn't appear. Finally she flipped off the blanket, groaned and straightened, then hustled toward the kitchen, nearly colliding with him as he appeared out of the bedroom.

He was shirtless. His feet were bare. And the button at the top of his clean jeans was undone, revealing a flash of skin below his washboard abs.

“Sorry.” She put up her hand to forestall the collision and it came flat against his chest.

His fingers closed over her elbow to steady her and his thighs brushed up against hers.

“You okay?” he asked

She nodded, her heart skipping double-time. This was one good-looking cowboy. He looked great in his clothes, but out of them… Hoo, boy.

He reached over and shut off the burner.

Then his hand came up to cover hers, pressing it into his chest. His skin was warm and smooth. She could feel his heart thudding against his rib cage.

Her fingers made out the ridge of a horizontal scar. It was an uneven gash, three inches long, and she wondered what had happened.

From the little she'd seen of his life, she knew it was rough and physical. But what had caused this? And what other secrets were there on the body she'd admired for two days?

Before she could voice a question, their gazes met. His eyes turned a deep, ocean blue, and she inhaled his scent, marveling at how familiar it had become.

He slowly reached out to stroke her hair. Sensations washed over her like warm rain, and she longed to lean into him and absorb the full warmth of his strength. She held his gaze instead, finding flecks of gray among the storm-tossed blue. His look was turbulent, challenging.

He dipped his head ever so slightly. Then he stopped and his eyelids came down in a long blink.

“Is it just me?” he asked, refocusing. “Or is this a really stupid idea?”

She couldn't stop the slow, sultry smile that grew on her face. “It is a really stupid idea…”

His lips parted. “But…”

“Have we ever let that stop us before?”

C
ole was going to kiss this woman.

Stupid decisions were his stock-in-trade around her, and he saw no reason to give that up now.

“You're gorgeous,” he said in all honesty, brushing the pad of his thumb across her cheek.

“So are you,” she responded.

He grinned at that, sliding spread fingers through the thickness of her hair.

To his surprise, she rocked forward and placed a hot, moist kiss on his chest.

He sucked in a tight breath, and she kissed him again, her soft lips searing into his skin. It took a second to realize she was tracing the scar on his breastbone. She was kissing away his pain, soothing what was once a gaping wound, calming a memory he'd sworn he'd have to fight forever.

His hands convulsed and he tilted her head, searching her eyes for the reason behind her caring touch. What he saw was smoky jade and simmering passion.

Lightning exploded in the sky above them. Rain crashed down on the shake roof and clattered against the window-panes. The oak trees creaked and the willows rustled as the wind whipped the world into a frenzy.

That same storm swirled to life inside him. He couldn't wait another second to taste her lips. He dipped to capture them, touching, tasting, savoring. They were as lush as he'd imagined, but sweeter, more giving, the perfect shape and size and pressure.

He kissed her again, this time pulling her soft body against his, opening wide, praying she'd follow suit. His skin was on fire and his chest tightened with a deep longing.

She parted her lips and a small moan escaped. The sound tugged at him, surrounded him, buried itself deep inside him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on tight.

He inhaled her scent, wishing the moment could go on and on. He wanted to close his eyes, block out the world, lose himself in her, pretend nothing existed outside their cocoon.

But that was impossible.

The world did exist. The world of Kyle and Katie and the Thunderbolt. He slowly pulled back.

Her face was flushed and her eyes were glazed.

He suspected he looked exactly the same way.

She rubbed his chest and eased off with a deep breath. “Guess it's good to get that out of the way,” she said.

“Our first kiss?”

She nodded, her gaze fixed somewhere below his neck. “Yeah. Could have been awkward in front of Katie.”

“I'll say.” He stepped back, raking a hand through his damp hair. “Now at least I'll know what to expect.”

“Me, too.”

“So it wasn't such a stupid idea after all.”

“I think it was quite brilliant.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Brilliant.” He took a tight breath. “I'm, uh…” He gestured vaguely toward his bedroom door then escaped quickly and grabbed a clean shirt, stuffing his arms into the sleeves.

Brilliant was just the word.
Brilliant.
Now he wouldn't be able to look at her without getting aroused.

When he returned to the living room she was curled up in the armchair again with a pen and paper in her hands.

“We should talk logistics,” she said.

Cole's steps faltered.

Maybe her mood could shift one-eighty in the blink of an eye, but he needed a few minutes to recover. He made a show of securing his buttons and tucking the shirt into his waistband, before he dropped down onto the couch and met her eyes.

“What have you got so far?” he asked, struggling to get back on an even keel, trying to ignore that fact that she was wearing his clothing.

She tucked her auburn hair behind one ear. It was beautiful even when it was wet.

“How fast do you think we can pull this off?” she asked.

“Why? You in a hurry?”

She glanced up in surprise. “Yes. I've got a whole display to coordinate. Dozens of pieces.”

“I don't think Katie's going to buy love at first sight.”

“I didn't mean this afternoon. It'll take a couple weeks to prepare the gallery.”

“A whole two weeks?”

“Probably a little more.”

Cole tamped down his annoyance at her business-like approach. They'd shared one kiss. Nothing had changed. There was still nothing more to their relationship than a commercial transaction.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He neutralized his expression.

“You sure?”

“What could be wrong?”

She nodded. “Okay. Where's the Thunderbolt now?”

“In a lawyer's safe in Wichita Falls.”

“Can we get it?”

“Not until after the wedding.”

Sydney nodded again. “I'm going to need to make a few calls.”

“Kyle has a land line at the house. So does Grandma.” You couldn't pick up a cell signal in the Valley.

“You don't have a phone?”

Cole shrugged. “I only moved in after Kyle and Katie got married. Haven't updated much.”

“No problem.” Sydney flipped the page. “Okay. So what's our next move with Katie?”

“You might not want to takes notes on that.”

“Why?”

He raised a brow.

“Oh. Right. We don't want to leave an evidence trail.”

“Rain's stopping,” Cole noted. “How about I drive you back to her place and you can wax poetic about me for a while?”

A slow smile grew on Sydney's face and Cole relaxed for the first time since the kiss.

“Let me see…” She began counting off on her fingers. “You are a good-looking guy. Smart, funny and oh—”
She snapped her fingers and laughed. “I can tell her you're sexy.”

Cole wasn't sure how to take that. Was Sydney saying she thought he was sexy, or that she was willing to lie about it? He couldn't ask. It would sound stupid. And there was no logical reason for him to care.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder if she meant it.

 

When Katie found out Sydney was still checked into the hotel in Wichita Falls, she offered to drive her in to pick up her suitcase. The rental car was down for the count, and it was looking as though they'd need a tow truck to retrieve it. Exorbitantly expensive, but the drive alone with Katie seemed like a perfect opportunity to go all moony-eyed over Cole.

Not that it was such a huge stretch. That man could kiss like there was no tomorrow. She still got a little flushed thinking about it. In fact, she was hoping for an excuse to do it again. Soon.

The next morning, Katie's pickup truck bumped over the ruts of the ranch's access road.

“That's Grandma's house at the top of the hill,” she said. “Kyle and Cole's dad grew up there. Kyle and Cole, too, for a while. But after the boys were born, their dad built the house where we live now.”

“Cole mentioned his parents had died.”

Katie nodded, gearing down to negotiate a series of potholes. “Light plane crash.”

“Oh, no.” A pain flashed through Sydney's chest, her mind going back to the horrible day when she'd learned her own parents had been killed in a house fire.

“Cole was in the plane,” Katie continued. “He was the only one who lived.”

“Was he all right?”

“Cuts, bruises, broken ribs. He was really lucky.”

“But he lost his parents.” And he had at least one scar to remind him. She was glad now she hadn't asked him about it.

Katie nodded again, keeping her gaze fixed on the road. “He's a good man, Sydney.”

“I know he is.”

“He's been through a lot.”

“Yes, he has.” Sydney understood better than most the horrible pain of losing your parents.

Katie cleared her throat. “I can understand…”

Sydney turned to try to gauge the odd tone of Katie's voice.

“I can understand that you might be tempted to, uh, romance the brooch from under—”

“Katie!”

“I'm not judging you. I have a sense of how important it is.”

“I would
never
—”

“Like I said, I'm not judging. Women make choices all the time.” Katie glanced at Sydney, a mixture of pain and awkwardness in her eyes. “I just don't want to see him hurt again.”

Sydney frantically shook her head. “I've been completely honest and up-front with Cole.”

“I saw how he looked at you.”

“And I like him, too, Katie.” Sydney's stomach clenched with guilt.

“He's falling for you.”

“Maybe. I don't know.” Sydney had to remind herself that she was being honest with Cole. She wasn't conning him, and she wouldn't hurt him.

“I don't know where this is going,” she told Katie honestly. “But I won't lie to him about my feelings. I promise you.”

“He's a good man,” Katie said in a quiet voice.

“He's a very good man,” Sydney agreed. “And he's lucky to have you.”

Katie cracked a small smile.

Sydney reached out and touched her shoulder. “I'm serious, Katie. You are a terrific sister-in-law. Cole knows full well that I want the Thunderbolt. If anything happens between us, we'll both go into it with our eyes wide open.”

Katie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, giving Sydney a watery smile. “So, you think there might be a chance for the two of you?”

Sydney took a deep breath, turning back to the wind-shield as she chose her words. “I think Cole and I are going to have a very interesting relationship.”

 

Sydney's answers must have satisfied Katie, because at the end of the day, Katie suggested stopping at her grandmother's for dinner. She said Saturday night was traditionally for family, and a perfect opportunity for Sydney to meet Grandma.

Cole had warned Sydney that his grandma was an incorrigible matchmaker, and that she'd go for broke the minute she laid eyes on Sydney. So Sydney was prepared for anything.

What she got was a sharp, funny, sweet-natured, little woman in a floppy hat and bright gardening gloves with a dream of a period house. Circa 1940, it had an octagonal entry hall, with an archway that led to a living room, while another doorway led to what looked like the master bedroom.

The wallpaper was yellowed and russet tiles were faded with age. But the wood trim shone with a dark patina and the leaded windows were definitely original.

“Your home is beautiful,” Sydney said to Grandma, peering into the living room. The couch and armchair were burgundy, looped brocade, dotted with doilies that Sydney would bet Cole's grandmother had crocheted herself.

Grandma glanced around. “Never thought of it as beautiful before.”

“It's
gorgeous,
” said Sydney, smiling at the incongruous wide-screen television and the personal computer perched on an antique, rolltop desk. Oh, how she'd love to check her e-mail.

“Sydney's here to visit for a few days,” said Katie. “She's interested in the Thunderbolt of the North.”

Sydney stole a quick glance at Katie, trying to decide if she was giving Grandma a subtle warning about her possible motives.

“Have to marry Cole to get the Thunderbolt,” said Grandma as she led the way through the living room.

“So I understand,” said Sydney.

They passed into a second octagonal hallway in the middle of the house, and then through a doorway to the kitchen at the back.

“Good news is that he's available,” said Grandma.

“You know, he told me that himself.”

Grandma looked back and cocked her head. “Did he, now?”

Sydney nodded.

The older woman smiled. She took a blue enamel kettle out of a painted cupboard and filled it with water from the deep, old-fashioned sink. “From New York, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Like it here in Texas?”

“So far I'm having a wonderful time.”

“That's good.” Grandma nodded her head. “Cole's mother passed away, you know.”

“Katie told me about that.”

“His dad, too. My Neil.”

“I'm very sorry.”

“Well, I'm still here. And I've always figured that meant I've still got a job to do with one wayward grandson.”

Sydney grinned, assuming she was in for the full court press. “You mean Cole or Kyle?”

“Cole, of course.” Grandma paused. “You want to help me?” Then a split second later she gestured to a bowl of freshly picked blueberries so that the question could be interpreted either way.

“I'd love to help.” Sydney was ready to give her all on both fronts.

“Good!” Grandma winked. “You can wash the berries. Katie, you get down a mixing bowl.”

Katie opened a high cupboard and retrieved a large stoneware bowl. “Grandma's scones are renowned in this part of Texas.”

“Recipe is a family secret,” said Grandma. “Handed down from generation to generation.”

“Can't wait to try them,” said Sydney, pushing up the sleeves of her shirt.

“Grandma?” Katie ventured. “Why don't you explain to Sydney why the Thunderbolt goes to the wives?”

“I'll do that,” said Grandma with a nod.

Katie turned to waggle an eyebrow at Sydney. “I love this story.”

“Near as I can figure,” said Grandma, scooping into a tin flour canister, “it started around the middle of the fourteenth century.”

Sydney was instantly riveted. There was nothing she
liked better than family lore. As far as she was concerned, stories were as important as antiquities.

“The family went through a streak of good-for-nothing eldest sons,” Grandma continued. “Worry was, if the young scoundrels got control of the Thunderbolt, they'd sell it for wenches and ale.”

Sydney ran some water over the blueberries.

“Old Hendrik wanted to make sure they earned their money the Viking way,” said Grandma, her practiced hands cutting a block of butter into the flour mixture. “By raiding and pillaging.”

Sydney longed for a pen. She'd have to ask permission, of course, but she'd love to write this down for the museum.