Kiersten yawned and stretched, reached and patted the still-warm empty spot next to her. Her shower was running. And Cleve was humming and intermittently singing words in there. She had to smile in spite of the love song. What would it have been like to have a rich cowboy fall in love with her before she’d become jaded, before she knew Luke?
It would be so easy to let herself go. Enjoy falling in love like everyone else. Like she’d done before...Yeah. When she was the only one in love. No, it might be tempting, but she’d resist. The humiliation when she’d learned Luke never truly loved her was one thing, but she’d grieved for him while she still believed in their marriage.
Losing people hurt. She should be used to it by now, but it didn’t get easier. No doubt she’d lose Grandpa one day, and who knew when anybody else would get in a car wreck and be gone? It wasn’t worth it to get attached to people when they were so damn mortal.
A truck rumbled up her driveway. Pulling her curtain aside a titch, she saw an old red, beat-up Chevy. Fletch Latham’s. After tugging on her jeans and sweatshirt, she padded barefoot to her front deck to greet her visitor.
“Hi, Mr. Latham.” He was a sheep rancher too, as old as her Grandpa and looking it.
“Mr. Latham, pooh! We’re not in the bank, call me Fletch. Mornin.” The handshake he’d started to greet her with became a hug instead. “Looks like spring made it, huh? Sure took its own sweet time coming. Every year it seems like the winter gets longer.”
“Grandpa says the same thing. You wanta come in for some coffee?”
“No, Kristin, I come to talk business.” Business. Her gaze darted back to the house. “I’ve had an offer on my property from that Texan, and I wanted to give you first chance at it. It ain’t right the way he’s done you, and I’d sure like to see him turn tail and leave this country.”
“Well, I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m pretty strapped right now, with the fire at my office and all. Was the offer from the senior Howell in Texas, or the son out here?”
“It was that bastid down in Texas. Called me on the phone Friday. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take his offer, though. Four hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money for a man like me, and it sure would be good to retire and go south in the winter.”
She nodded, her mind racing with wicked mean thoughts, and her heart keeping pace with the adrenaline buzz from starting to carry them out. “Four hundred thousand? I’d hold out for more, Fletch. Mr. Howell offered Grandpa a million seven this week.”
Fletch’s mouth dropped open, as she’d expected.
His leathery face darkened. “A million seven, you say? How much acreage you got here?”
“Two hundred acres.” Which was a little over half of his three hundred-sixty acres.
Fletch jammed his hands in his pockets, then paced her deck twice. He must be steamed at the idea they’d been offered so much more than he had, but obviously didn’t want to offend her. “I guess you’ve got access to that BLM, so that’s somethin.”
She nodded again, suppressing a grin over her next tactic. “It is. But I wouldn’t take less than a million from that loud-mouth Texan bully, if I were you. Get him for all you can. And when you tell him how much you want, do me a favor? Tell him your ‘dirtpoor field-maggot farmer’ friend told you how much to demand.” Dredging up the age-old war between the sheepmen and the cattlemen was blatant troublemaking, but a sure way to fire up an old-timer.
“Some things never do change,” he muttered, staring off at the horizon. Probably remembering some past slight he’d suffered from a cattle rancher. “Goddamn cattlemen always have thought they were better than us. You know, I bet Howell’s been talkin to Malcolm across the road. I’ll pass your message along to him, too. That Texan sonofawhore wants to put together a big spread up here in the mountains, it’s gonna cost him a pretty penny.”
Fletch’s old truck hadn’t rumbled out of sight when she heard Lean On Me coming from her cell. Still grinning, she answered. “Nate.”
“I guess I don’t have to ask why you’re so chipper this morning.” He snickered. “No more eventful visits last night, then?”
“Everything’s fine here. You guys okay down there?”
“Yeah. Wins has plans to go play cards at the senior center, so I thought I’d come up and help you finish the fence along the north.”
“Excellent. I don’t wanta tag along with Cleve and his guys and Pain-in-the-Ass Barbie all day, and Cleve would probably have a cow before he’d let me stay alone.”
“He’s watching out for you, which you need, Kie.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just get your butt up here fast. I’ve got something juicy to share.”
“Impatient bitch,” Nate teased. “I’m loading up now, girlfriend.”
Humming to herself in her kitchen, she put cinnamon rolls in the oven and cut up fruit while coffee brewed. God, it smelled strong. Must be why she didn’t like to drink it. But Cleve liked coffee in the morning, so she’d picked some up to have around for him.
“Mornin, Darlin,” he said, brushing his freshly shaved face against hers with a quick kiss. “Damn, it smells good in here. Maybe it’s you. Let me see.” He nuzzled under her hair, making her giggle.
“Sex maniac. Your coffee’s ready.”
“So domestic all of a sudden.” His arms gave her a little squeeze. “It’s like you’re Donna Reed or somethin.”
“Hmph! Domestic, my ass. I’ve seen what a cranky bastard you are when you don’t get caffeine first thing.”
“You ready to come show a buncha cowboys how to mend a fence?”
He wouldn’t like this much. She smiled sweetly, sliding her hand along his soft cheek. “Nope. Got my own fence to tend to. Nate’s coming up to babysit me today.”
His disappointed, “Oh,” was cut short when she invited him to kill some time in the bedroom while the cinnamon rolls baked.
* * * *
Increasingly dark clouds raced above, and the morning’s light breeze had grown to difficult gusts.
“Oh my God, Kie, the old man will flip when Fletch calls him,” Nate said as they hung fence high up the mountain along the northern perimeter. “Aren’t you afraid Cleve will be mad?”
What an irritating question. In the war between herself and Howell, she couldn’t afford to worry over what Cleve would think or feel. The fact that she had, almost as soon as Fletch drove away, irritated her more.
“I’ve been fighting CJ since long before I knew Cleve. He climbed in my bed knowing I despise his father and I’ll do anything I can to make CJ’s life hell.”
“So the bad relationship with CJ takes precedence over your good relationship with Cleve?”
Oh, that condescending tone! “Shut up. There’s no relationship. Cleve knows that. We have a good time together, mostly in bed. It doesn’t need to be anything else. So far all the nasty things I’ve said to and about CJ haven’t affected Cleve’s ability to sleep with me. I doubt this will either.”
Nate’s nostrils flared. “You’re really going to lie to me, and tell me you don’t care how uncomfortable you make Cleve, putting him between you and his father?”
Ah. It was the injustice of sticking Cleve in the middle that offended Nate’s sensibilities.
“We’re gonna get you a life of your own, so you won’t worry about mine. Clay will be here Wednesday. Bet he’s a hottie. Maybe you two can hook up.”
“Don’t try to change the subject, missy.”
She rolled her eyes and looked away. The subject was not only changed, but closed.
He clucked his tongue, sighed, and asked, “So, how you been feeling? Like a mama?”
“No.” Her instinct was to keep all thoughts about the possible pregnancy to herself, but Nate’s genuinely concerned—excited?—expression, softened her. “I don’t know. I got suddenly nauseous last night at dinner, but it totally could have been from nerves, you know? And his coffee this morning made me feel queasy. But you know I’m not crazy for coffee anyway.”
“Sore breasts?”
“Jesus, Nate. You’ll make a great nurse one day. They’re always sore with PMS. So, who knows? Only a few more days to find out.”
“You’re not very stressed about it.” He folded his arms over his chest and stared her down. “Oh my God. You want to be pregnant, don’t you?”
“No. That’s stupid.” When her eyes met his round ones, she grinned like the fool she was and looked away. “Shut up. Have you heard when Trayce will be sentenced?”
“Tuesday. I think you should be there, to remind the judge what a rotten jerk he’s dealing with. I’ll drive you.”
Leaking rainclouds sent Nate back to town, after they’d finished their fencing and taken a nice break in the cabin to discuss Cleve’s cowhands’ various aesthetic strengths and weaknesses.
* * * *
Cleve walked in Kiersten’s front door, caught the tail end of their dishing, and shook his head. How could Nate think of men the way Kiersten could, and still think of her like he did? Today Nate didn’t have a straight bone in his body, giving Rocky a brotherly kiss on her forehead when he trotted out the front door to his little yellow SUV. Almost made him wonder if he’d misinterpreted Nate’s feelings toward her. Almost.
Hours after, he and Kiersten lay snuggled on one of her quilts in front of the fireplace, enjoying a post-sex glow. He told her Whitney had tripped the circuit breaker six times that morning while blow-drying her hair, sending the guys running to reset it for her. On his suggestion, they’d decided tomorrow Rowdy would tell her the breaker was blown, and she’d have to let her hair dry naturally. The guys hoped she’d either decide she couldn’t tough it out any longer or she’d quit washing her hair. She’d used every drop of hot water that morning. Best-case scenario, she’d want to go home early. There wasn’t another way he’d rather spend his money than on a plane ticket sending her whiny ass home.
* * * *
Kiersten woke to gray, early-morning darkness enveloping the cabin. Rain pattered on her tin roof.
“Mmm. God, that feels nice,” she told Cleve, scooting against his warm body. “Maybe we should stay in bed.” She shivered. They could spend the day making love. Having sex. Spend the day having sex, not making love.
The rain was still pouring down half an hour later when Cleve hummed his rendition of Lady again. True to his prediction, she didn’t cry, though she did close her eyes.
“Get yourself dressed, we’re goin shoppin, Rocky.” On his fingers, he ticked off the items he needed to buy. “I need three ATVs, and a trailer for ’em. Living room furniture, since the boys already broke a leg off that cheapo couch in The Elephant, mattresses, and I need you to help me get towels and blankets and such.”
The amount of money Cleve spent gave her a headache. How would it be to have that much money at her disposal at any given time? The big enclosed trailer he bought first thing and paid for with a check was full by the end of the day. Refusing to wait two weeks for the high-end leather furniture he wanted, he talked the manager into selling him the display set. Despite her protests, he’d purchased a replacement bed for her too, claiming he wasn’t up to sleeping on her lumpy old model for another night.
At the mall, they bought double sets of linens for each of the beds and a stack of towels sufficient for four men who would perpetually forget to do laundry.
“Can we leave this stuff here for a bit?” Cleve asked an ecstatic sales clerk.
He led Kiersten away by the hand.
“What do you need now?” Whatever it was he wanted, he whipped out the old Flyin H Visa and it was his. Talk about hooking up with someone from a different world!
“You’ll see,” he said mysteriously, leading her to the lingerie section. While she stood with one eyebrow raised, he shoved past hangers until he found what he wanted: an elegant, sapphire silk gown with a plunging neckline and a matching ivory robe trimmed in the blue. A much more risque coordinating set caught his eye, too. “This your size?”
“Cleve, you don’t need to buy me...stuff.” Knowing where all his money came from, she didn’t want material gifts from him. He’d probably ignore her protests, as he had about the bed. At least he’d be sleeping in the bed. She planned to store her old mattress, and when they parted ways, she’d make sure he got the one Howell money had paid for. But clothing? No way. “What would Big Daddy think about you spending his cash on a pricey nightie for the ‘little chigger next door?’”
Cleve chewed the inside of his lip, said nothing, and carried the lingerie to a register. After picking up his other purchases, they went silently to the parking lot. She ran to keep up with his long-legged stride. He tossed the bags with muffled thumps wherever they’d fit in the trailer amid ATVs, gas cans, and furniture, and slammed the door.
So, she’d finally managed to rile the ever-patient Cleveland. He was pretty pissed, evident by the way he still didn’t speak when he pushed her hand off her door handle and yanked the door open. Ever the gentleman in the face of any opposition. This ride home from Grand Junction would be as uncomfortable as the one after leaving the hotel with Nate had been.
The ride didn’t commence as she’d expected. Cleve slammed his door but didn’t start his truck. “A man has to keep a certain amount of pride, even if he’s nothin more than a prize in a game, Kiersten. I’m sorry I don’t have money of my own yet, and can’t offer you anything that hasn’t been Pop’s at some point. Since he’s financin my ranch like he has for all my brothers and sisters, I’ve got nothin to call mine. I’d take a job in town with a paycheck, if I thought you’d quit actin like anything I give you needs to be scrubbed clean before you’ll touch it.”
“Cleve, you’re not just a prize—”
“The hell I’m not.” He slapped the steering wheel, sending off an abrupt honk.
“I’m sorry you’re in the middle of this, really.” God, he wasn’t going to take it well at all when he found out how much money she’d cost his family. “And I don’t think of you as not having anything of your own. Jesus.” Her fingers pressed into her eyelids. “I, well, I can’t fathom what it would be like to just go buy what I needed or wanted, without thinking first whether I can get by without it somehow.”
“Then let me give you the things you need and want.”
It was so simple for him. He had no idea the bruising her pride would take at the notion that she needed help and couldn’t make it on her own. Hadn’t her grandparents always managed? Times were tougher for them, and they’d never had help. No. She wouldn’t be indebted to CJ Howell, and she couldn’t be indebted to Cleve. What he’d done to her resolve to keep emotionally distant was bad enough. But she couldn’t owe him, or anybody else. Her freedom and her independence were all she had. And he was wearing them down bit by bit, hanging around her place, making her love waking up with him next to her, reminding her how good it was to know she wasn’t alone.
In a voice soft and soothing, he said, “Come on, Rocky. Let’s go have a steak somewhere nice.”
She gave him directions, and soon Cleve sat beside her, holding her hand while they waited for their order. His sweet need to make up after getting angry made guilt burn her stomach. God, this guy was too nice. It was too complicated with them. Tomorrow morning, she’d tell him what she’d done with Fletch, and send him on his way. Trayce would be sentenced and locked up. She’d be in no danger and wouldn’t need Cleve’s protection. They could go back to being neighbors. With all his company, he wouldn’t miss her. She’d do what she’d always done.
Content with the decision she’d made, she relaxed against him, intent on enjoying their last evening together.
* * * *
Thank the Lord, Rocky finally softened up and kissed him back. She was a turn-on when pissed, but confusing as hell when upset. Trying to figure her out was like trying to solve a murder on an illegal alien down by the Mexican border. He knew there was motive behind what she did, but he didn’t have enough clues to guess it. Then she suggested ways to christen their new bed when they got home, and his worries faded. Home.
She promised to only be gone a minute in the ladies’ room while he paid their bill. Unlike most women, she wouldn’t dawdle at the mirror in the restroom. She’d be in and out quick, like she had many times. Come to think of it, she’d gone off to tinkle everywhere they went. In his limited experience with pregnant women, he distinctly remembered his sisters-in-law constantly needing to pee when they were pregnant. This wasn’t the way he’d planned his first kid, but they wouldn’t be the first couple to have a shotgun wedding. He fingered his phone in his pocket, chomping at the bit to call Clay and brag. And Mama. As soon as he knew for sure, he’d call to let her know.
* * * *
Kiersten leaned against the truck door as they drove home. Cleve had tried to convince her to sit beside him in the middle of the seat, but she’d claimed she was tired. God knew, she suddenly felt it, though she’d put on a poker face when facing him after her trip to the restroom.
After all the potty visits she’d made today, she’d been certain. She’d gotten her own hopes up, foolishly. Made the impromptu nausea of the other night—the proverbial molehill—into a mountain. Then she’d convinced herself all day that she needed to pee. Maybe she did. Could be a bladder infection or something. Whatever it was, it sure wasn’t pregnancy.
A bullhorn blasting in her ear couldn’t have been more brutally blunt than the bright red seeping across her panty. Now she felt crampy. Imagining that too? A Pavlovian response to seeing the monthly red flag waving, announcing that she was still empty? One more month of fertility gone to waste. Except this time, unlike any in the past thirty-two months, she’d believed there wouldn’t be a period. Hmph. Nothing more than wishful thinking, obviously. Stupid thinking.
“Might feel better if you talk about it,” Cleve said softly.
That damn, sweet concern again. Now she’d have to break it to him: there was no baby. After that, he probably wouldn’t worry so about her safety. And once she dropped the bomb about her little sabotage on his daddy’s real estate deal, their cuddling days would be history for sure. Stupid, stupid. It hurt to think of him leaving her and not coming back each night. But it was her own fool fault for letting herself care about a guy again. This time she wouldn’t hurt alone, though. He’d been in love with the idea of having a family.
He reached for her shoulder and massaged it.
“Don’t, Cleve. You don’t have to worry about me now. There’s no baby. In the bathroom, I...” God, it was awkward telling a guy you got your period. “Well, you know. We’re not pregnant.” Her voice broke on that last word, hard as she tried to sound unemotional.
“Oh.”
How many miles they drove in silence, she didn’t know. Her eyes were closed to avoid seeing his face. And to fight back her imminent tears. How had she become such an idiot? She should be jumping for joy right now. They hadn’t conceived a child who’d be subjected to lifelong enmity between its mother and grandfather. How many times, during her younger years, had she sent a silent prayer of thanks when her period came? Inconvenience aside, how could a sexually active single woman not be happy to get her period?
Finally, Cleve’s warm hand took hers. “Guess we shoulda bought one of those giant boxes of Trojans from Sam’s Club.”
Oh, thank God! “I’ll call tomorrow and get my doctor to give me a prescription for the Pill.”
Big relieved sigh. Cleve still wanted her. Which made sense. They had great sex, and her place was a lot nicer to sleep in than The Elephant.
“CJ would’ve grounded you for sure if you came out here and knocked up the first girl you met.”
“Yeah, I woulda got the ‘keep your pecker in your pants’ speech all over again, huh? Mama’s a nurse. She’d be all worked up over me not usin ‘protection’.”
“Your mom’s a nurse? Like, she had a job? A career?”
“Yep. They even let women drive cars in Texas these days.”
“I can’t imagine a guy like your father putting up with his wife making her own money.”
“Rocky, you don’t really know much about Pop. A lot of what happened between you two was his lawyers’ doing. And Chaz.” Likely story. “Mama only does volunteer work now, for a mobile well-child clinic Pop funds. She was a nurse in the hospital when Pop’s appendix ruptured. That’s how they met.”
Sick or in pain, CJ Howell would be a big whiny baby. Mrs. Howell must have a heart of gold to have fallen for him when he was hospitalized. Nice that he funded a well-child clinic, but he was still a shithead. It was easy to be a philanthropist where everyone could see, when you went around snatching money from the hungry hands of a few unlucky people who couldn’t fight back.
Cash and Rowdy met them at her house to unload Cleve’s new bed, then take the truck and trailer to the Flyin H to unload everything else. They said Whitney had been sulky all day because her hair was flat and the guys had refused to quit watching bull-riding and poker tournaments so she could see her soaps. She’d called and bought a plane ticket home for the next day. Cleve high-fived both his employees and promised a good party after Whitney left.
The rain had stopped sometime during the afternoon, leaving the mountain clean and chilly for the evening. With Cleve spooned round her on the new bed, Kiersten covered the big hand nestled between her breasts with both of hers. Things were okay. Cleve was still around. He hadn’t abandoned her like she’d expected. But how much would it take before he’d give up on her? He was rebellious enough to enjoy pushing his dad’s buttons. As long as CJ tried to keep them apart, she could hang on to him. Maybe confessing to the trouble she’d made with Fletch wasn’t the best route. CJ would call Cleve as soon as he found out, and he’d give Cleve an ultimatum, demand he stay away from her. This could spur Cleve to refuse and want her even more. It might be a tad underhanded, but it sounded like a workable plan.
* * * *
Long after Rocky’s breathing become slow and deep with sleep, Cleve lay thinking. Chiefly, he wanted to slide the pretty silk nightgown off her pretty white body and make love. How many days till they could do it again? It was a damn shame she wasn’t pregnant. No, they weren’t pregnant, was the way she’d worded it. He liked that. This was better after all. She needed to know she was in love with him, and then they’d get married and have a kid the right way, with no speeches from older brothers or parents. Or Winston Day.
He’d dreaded telling the old guy that he’d been shacking up with his granddaughter and didn’t have the sense to prevent pregnancy.
Tomorrow he’d start building his corral with his guys. The fencing was done. They hadn’t spent much time on the one between Flyin H and Fletch Latham’s, since Pop told Rowdy he’d as good as sealed the deal with Fletch, or on the fence along the Malcolm Cox side. Those fences would be coming down soon, anyway.
Things were coming together for him. He had his girl, whether she knew he had her or not, his ranch was almost operational, and the house he’d raise his family in would start construction as soon as the ground was dry enough for dirt work. And Clay would arrive in two days to solve the Nate Issue.
He squeezed Kiersten tighter.
She woke and stirred, facing him for a kiss. Then noticing his woody, she took her mouth and her kisses lower and lower. Yeah, things were definitely looking up.