After lunch and a stop at the grocery store, Cleve headed back up the hill. With Chaz and his shitty attitude out of the picture, he felt like celebrating. And somebody else would be even more happy about it. Whistling, he unpacked groceries into press-board cupboards and the miniature, propane-run RV fridge.
As he’d guessed, the carton of ice cream he’d bought wouldn’t fit in the tiny freezer. Perfect excuse. He tucked it back in the styrofoam cooler with dry ice and strapped it behind the seat of his ATV, thinking of Kiersten all the while. Thoughts of her prettyboy gave him pinpricks of guilt, but hell, the guy oughtta be with her, if he wanted to be with her.
He’d held his own in a few bar fights. Kiersten’s buff boyfriend didn’t worry him. Christ, the little hellcat could be dating a prizefighter, and it most likely wouldn’t be enough to scare him away.
Late afternoon had lost its hold on daylight and given way to early evening when his ATV’s sputtering engine died in front of her cabin. He’d have to get the thing in the shop soon so it’d be running when his cattle arrived.
Her ugly dog gave one short bark, then treated him to a good hand-licking while he loosened the bungees holding the cooler.
The dog raced to the porch for a tennis ball, bounded back and dropped it at his feet. The bushy tail wagged while he rested his head on his front feet and begged with his eyes.
Poor mutt. He tossed the ball for him to fetch a few times, then wandered up and knocked on Kiersten’s door.
She didn’t respond after the third try. Maybe she’d whacked her head. And he hadn’t even checked her pupils for a concussion.
The door was unlocked. She was damn secure with her whereabouts. But Chaz—Boss Hogg, as she’d say—had tried to destroy that security. She’d be an easy target to the wrong person, especially since she assumed she could hold her own against any force.
Uninvited and unexpected, he entered the house of a woman he barely knew. If she was unconscious from a concussion, he’d kick himself all the way to town with her. Damn, why hadn’t he thought to check for head injuries?
He found her stretched on the couch, her back to him. Ugly red and blue marks showed around the edges of her flimsy tank top. Her fine, fair behind poked out the bottom of the same soft cotton shorts. His bandage from the morning was still holding.
The little lady could snore with the best, for sure. She must be sleeping pretty well. He hated to interrupt such a sound sleep, but he needed to make sure she was all right.
“Hey, Kiersten. You okay?” He gave her soft shoulder a shake.
A groggy, “Mmm?” and she sat up, rubbing her eyes.
He couldn’t resist peeking at her bare middle.
By the time his gaze wandered up to see the top was even thinner than he’d thought, she was awake enough to notice.
“Um, hi?” Generous gathered brows betrayed her confusion as she crossed her arms and took away the view.
“Sorry about invitin myself in. I knocked and knocked, but you didn’t answer. I’d about decided you had a concussion from your spill this mornin.” He bent low enough to put his eyes level with hers. “Your pupils look the same.” That was comforting. “You always sleep so hard?”
“Yeah,” she yawned. “Like a rock, Grandpa says.”
Great. She wouldn’t even hear a troublemaker driving up to her house.
“Kinda dangerous for you, leavin your front door unlocked so’s anybody can drive up and walk right in. How you plan to defend yourself if that happens?”
“Oh, please. Who’s gonna drive way out here on the off-chance that there’s something worth taking, when there’s so much in one square mile down in town? Boss send you over to scare the bejesus outta me?” Bright green eyes narrowed on him.
No point in carrying on the argument. She either felt safe or refused to heed the risk. “Your friend ‘Boss’ is headin back to Texas. I brought ice cream, to celebrate.” Hopefully the sugar would improve her mood and then he’d explain his true relationship to Chaz.
“What lured Chaz back to Texas? All-you-can-eat ribs? Or did he need to replace those pansy white boots? Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m just joking.” Rushing off to her room, she called over her shoulder, “So, you’re in charge here now, huh?”
Time to set her straight, whether her mood was good or not. “Well, I’ve pretty much been in charge, Kiersten. You see—”
She came back wearing long pants and a sweatshirt.
Mighty disappointing for her curvy little body to be hidden by the thick clothing. She looked angular and tough again, like when he’d met her. How did the woman hide her body so well? And why did she? All the females he’d ever known made it their chief mission to flaunt every curve and swell the good Lord had given them.
“What?” she asked, looking down the front of herself. “You look like you were expecting somebody else.”
Commenting on her clothes was liable to get her riled, so he wouldn’t. “You got some bowls? This ice cream ain’t gonna be frozen much longer. Hope you like fudge chocolate chip.”
The way her face lit up at the mention of chocolate told him she was like the other women he’d known, in at least one way.
Hovering over his bowl several minutes later, he shoveled ice cream in. “Freezer I’ve got at my place isn’t big enough to hold that carton of ice cream.”
“Let me guess. You got the model that holds a dozen eggs and a half-gallon of milk, plus the world’s smallest jar of mayonnaise, and not a damn thing more.”
He smirked between bites.
She shook her head. “Horse’s ass Chaz didn’t know where to get full-size propane appliances, I take it.”
“No, and I got three cowboys showin up next week. There’s no way that midget ice box is gonna work out for us.”
“I’ll get you the phone number of the outfit where I got mine. They should be able to hook you up by the end of the week.” She paused and licked her spoon clean. “Three cowboys. Must mean the cows are coming, too.”
He’d ignore her mistake of referring to his Longhorns as ‘cows’ for now. “Flyin H, Colorado will be fully operational next week.” He’d finally come into his own, and his family would be watching to see if he could manage it himself, especially after he’d given Chaz the boot.
“You four guys all gonna bunk in that Pepto-pink trailer?” She laughed when he ducked his head in embarrassment. “That’s the one everybody in town’s been calling The Pink Elephant for the last three years. Chaz must be some tightwad, to buy that heap for his guys to live in. Nate said Andre, the guy who owns the dealership, bought rounds down at the bar all night long when he sold it. The day I was driving home from town and saw it coming up the road to Howell’s property, I laughed so hard I had to pull over.”
It was a damn shame to live in what everyone in this podunk town considered the ugliest house in the county.
Kiersten grinned. “Is it as bad inside as out?”
“My Mama would say ‘it’s ugly as homemade sin.’ And it’s put together really bad. I already broke the knobs off two drawers.”
She hooted and her eyes lit up. “You know, Nate said the high-schoolers called it the Special Olympics House. Andre tried to auction it off two years ago and give half to charity, to get it off his lot and use it as a write-off.”
Her laughter was infectious. He smiled in spite of himself.
“But nobody, not a single person, would bid on it!”
“Nobody?” He chuckled too. It was funny, aside from the joke being on him. If the locals knew what Chaz had paid for the hideous hunk of paneling and masonite siding, they’d really be busting up.
“The volunteer...” She laughed so hard she could barely get the words out. “...fire department...finally offered to...burn it. But they wanted to charge Andre a disposal fee!”
Living in the cheap pile of crap was almost worth watching Kiersten laugh over it. Her eyes sparkled with tears of laughter, her freckles now sprinkled bright over pinkened cheeks.
“Mmm. God. But it’s furnished, right?” she asked. “Are there enough bedrooms for all of ya?”
He shook his head. “Two of the guys’ll have to share a room. The rooms are furnished, but my mattress is so bad, I’ve been sleepin on the floor. They’ll likely do the same. I’m hopin plancheck approves everything for the house, so it can be built by winter.”
Kiersten’s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. “Chaz is building a house?”
“Well, not Chaz so much as me. See, that’s what I need to explain—”
“Are you gonna live there, like, year round?”
The way she asked, it was like she didn’t brave the elements all winter herself.
“Yeah, year round. Just like you. Why not?”
“No offense, Cleve. But it’s no picnic up here in the winter. It can get really inconvenient at times. And you have to know what you’re doing to put in your water and sewer so it doesn’t freeze up. You have to ration propane because you’ve got a good five months when no truck is gonna be able to get in to fill the tank. You ever been in seven feet of snow?”
If a female could handle the climate all on her own, he sure as hell could. “I was a Texas Ranger, I’ll have you know.” He kept from standing, but only just. “I grew up on a West Texas ranch, outside every minute I wasn’t in school. I’m not some citified yuppie. If you can handle it up here, so can I.”
* * * *
Kiersten stared back at Cleve’s dark eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. So, the Texan thought he was man enough to face a winter alone on the mountain. It might be interesting to watch, and rewarding to rescue him when he floundered. Chaz groveling, thanking her for saving his number one guy from frostbite and dehydration would be sugar to her soul. “You think your house will be done by winter?”
Cleve nodded.
“And if it is, you’ll be staying here?”
Another nod.
“Then I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
“We’ll see what?” Black eyes glared back at her.
“If you’re as much of a man as you think you are.”
Silence.
He threw his head back and laughed. When he was finished laughing, he met her grinning gaze. “Sugar, you’ll be pretty surprised when you find out how much of a man I am.”
His voice was low, and she ended up thinking more along the lines of what kind of man Cleve was in bed, rather than how snow-hardy he’d be. His half-parted lips heading her way meant he’d intended for her to think just that. Her heart thudded in anticipation of his kiss, thundering in her ears. The pounding grew louder, until it sounded like a motor. As his lips brushed hers, the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive reached her.
“Shoot.” He sat back in his chair.
“Um,” she replied, for lack of bigger words. She pressed her fingertips to her still-tingling lips.
“Nate.” He’d arrived, with the horse trailer and Grandpa’s truck. “Bringing my horse.” If only he hadn’t shown up for a few more minutes. Now Cleve probably wondered why she’d kissed him if Nate was her boyfriend. She should come clean with Cleve so he wouldn’t think she was a hussy, but there was no time.
“Kie! Hey, where are ya?” The door banged shut as Nate rushed through it. “Hey, I’ve been calling all day. You still alive?”
“I’m fine.” She laughed as he kissed her forehead. “Sorry. I’ve been asleep all afternoon.”
“God, you sleep like the dead.” Nate shook his head and looked past her to the table. “Hey Cleve. How’s it goin?”
“Not too bad.” Cleve looked a tad nervous as he slid his right fingers in his pocket. “How ’bout yourself?”
Was Cleve feeling bad for kissing Nate’s ‘girlfriend’?
“All right,” Nate answered. “Thought I’d get Kie’s mare up to her, and stick around to help with the fence in the morning. How far did you guys get today?”
“Not far at all,” Cleve said. Not far at all, before you interrupted! “Mountain Woman here decided to be a human rockslide and had to be driven home.”
“Yeah, well, at least I got something done before I fell. Some of us don’t sleep until noon before we go to work.” There, make him feel bad about being late.
Cleve grinned at her. “Noon? I walked up the hill and drove your poor injured tail back down and administered first aid before eight, darlin.” To Nate, he said, “It’s good you’ll be here tonight to make sure her, ah, injury isn’t infected. She can’t quite reach to bandage it herself. What time you wanta get started in the mornin?”
Nate looked from Cleve to her. “Uh, Kie? What, maybe six-thirty or so?”
She nodded and narrowed her eyes at Cleve.
“I better go get Cookie unloaded. You want her in the pen by the shed?” Nate asked. “Okay then. See ya tomorrow, Cleve.” His hasty exit left her alone with Cleve again.
“You didn’t have to tell him I got hurt and you had to bring me home, you know. He worries enough.”
“Huh. Don’t look like he worries enough to be around when you need him. More interested in hangin around town for the gossip than makin sure his girl’s safe. Guess they raise men different in Colorado.”
“I’m responsible for my welfare, not Nate or anybody else.” Leave it to a man to assume she needed looking after because she was female. “I don’t want him worrying needlessly. And you don’t know the first thing about the kind of man Nate is, but I can guarantee he’s more of a man than ninety-nine percent of the testosterone-seeping assholes walking the face of the earth. And to clarify, Nate is not my boyfriend. I don’t have one, and I don’t need one. So don’t let your head bloat up with ideas of how you stole me away from him because I kissed you.”
“I kissed you, little one.” God, he had a great smile. “I’ll leave the ice cream. Enjoy.”
“Cleve.” Now she felt bitchy. “I’ll save the ice cream for next time you’re over, okay?” When his hopeful eyes met hers, her stomach floated up. “See ya in the morning.”
“Lookin forward to it already,” he murmured as he settled his cowboy hat on his head.
Cleve’s quad sputtered down the hill as she joined Nate, leaning on the split-rail fence around her horse pen.
“Makin friends with the neighbor, Kie?”
“Shut up.”
“He wants you.”
“Shut up more.”
“You want him.”
Silence.
“I knew it. It’s about time! You ever hear how you can draw more flies with honey than vinegar?”
“I don’t want any freakin flies.” She waited until he gave her an indulgent grin. “Nate, are we good? I’m sorry for the other night.”
“We’re good.” He blinked and looked away, instead of at her. Something wasn’t right with Nate.
He cleared his throat. “So why all the tension? Just jump his bones.”
She folded her arms over her chest and watched Cookie rip mouthfuls of tender new grass. She’d expected Nate to pressure her about Cleve. He was like a one-man sales team for sex. “He pissed me off.”
“What guy hasn’t?”
She wouldn’t dignify that comment with a reply. “He thinks he can live up here all year long. Because I can.”
“The battle of the sexes?” Nate laughed. “Oldest parlor trick in the book. When he wins, you can act all weak and impressed. He’ll look mighty and strong, then carry you off to bed.”
“Nah, I’ll jump his bones long before that. And besides, hey! What makes you think he’ll win?” She gave him a shove.
“Face it, Kie. He’s got Howell’s money behind him to put in any convenience he wants. He’ll probably have a home gym and a hot tub. Not to mention he’ll hire his own private snow plow to keep his driveway clear. Probably buy a Hummer to get in and out.”
“Shit. Hadn’t thought about that. That’s not fair.” She wrinkled her nose at the injustice.
“Why’s it matter? By next winter, you’ll either hate each other or be married.”
She choked on his prediction. “How do you figure?”
“How long do you think you can sleep together without one of you getting attached?”
“Jesus, Nate. I haven’t even slept with him once, yet!”
“Yet,” he repeated with way too much confidence. “Wha’d ya do to yourself up there on the hill?”
“You can’t tell Cleve. Promise? I was pissed because I thought he stood me up. Kicked a rock and lost my balance and did an endo down the hill. Landed upside down, under the friggin bucket of tools.” She chuckled at the mental image of her crash. “Got about half of an old chokecherry stump stuck in my right cheek. Hurt like hell. Cleve did the honorable job of yanking the wood from me and bandaging it.”
“Bout time you got that stick outta your ass.”
This time she punched his shoulder. “Shut up! You’re supposed to be my friend, you know.”
“You know I am. Let’s go inside and look at your tushy.” His arm went round her shoulders as they walked inside.
“Grandpa still think we’re broke up?”
“I imagine we’re reconciling as we speak. By morning, we’ll be an item again.”
“You’re not getting any more free sex from me until I get a ring.”
He tweaked her nose.
“Bring any good movies?”
“I’ve got Johnny’s newest, darlin. Only the best for you. And for me, of course.”
“Thank God you don’t make me look at hooters all the time, like Luke did.”
“Ugg. Hooters. Can’t stand the sight of ’em.” Her elbow in his ribs made him recant. “Except yours, that is. Oh, it’s Sunday. We have to watch the Skinny Housewives before our movie.”
“It’s a rerun, Nate.”
“Who cares? You can check out the hotties better the second time around, because you’re not busy keeping track of the plot.”
“Sex fiend. I’m gonna shower and have you change my bandage before we get all comfy on the couch.”
Hopefully Nate wouldn’t mind if she took a little longer in the shower than usual. She needed time to think about that kiss. A cowboy kiss. Certain, but gentle, and cut all too short, before she’d had a chance to really get a taste of him. Just enough to whet her appetite—and his, judging by the way those awesome lips had pursed together when he’d pulled away. She’d like to go back in time and run her finger over those lips... Another time. And next time she’d make sure they didn’t get interrupted.
Maybe she could ponder it a bit more while Nate zoned out with his TV show.
Nate whistled when he saw the raw wound on her backside. “No wonder you’re limping. Maybe you should stay here tomorrow and let Cleve and I do the fencing.”
Her feet kicked involuntarily as he swabbed the scrape with alcohol.
“I’m fine. It’ll scab over by tomorrow.”
“Instead of trying to show off how tough you are, you should be milking this for all it’s worth. Helpless, wounded female. Big Texans go for that. Makes a guy feel more macho.”
“Everything I do isn’t sexually motivated.” Unlike some people.
“That’s obvious by those horrible sweats you were wearing earlier. Come on, girlfriend. How you gonna bag your man, hiding in oversized fleece?”
“You weren’t around for a consultation, Fashionista.” He was still swabbing, and she was still squirming. “Christ, can we be done now?”
“Wimpy, wimpy. Hope Cleve doesn’t see that side of you. He might think you’re a girl or something. Please, honey, let’s burn the sweat pants. They’re not even your size.”
“Get real, pal. Those are my second skin all winter long.”
“They’re a disguise, like everything you wear. You don’t want anybody to know about that hot little bod you’re hiding.”
“Shut up.” Why did he have to nag? “You’re worse than a wife.”
“Kie, not every guy is like Luke. A very small percentage, really. Stay away from Utah, and odds are you’ll never run into that problem again.”
“He wasn’t a Mormon. He was a con artist. A user. Anyway, I like to dress comfortably.”
“Right. You never did that before Luke died.”
“Did you come here to ruin my night? Lay off, dammit! What do you want from me? I think hating men is perfectly reasonable after what Luke did.”
“Hating men for a while, girlfriend. That’s normal. Living like Locker Room Rapunzel is not. I’m going through your closet and getting rid of everything frumpy, dumpy, or lumpy. Then we’re going shopping and outfit you right.” He tore off still another piece of tape, then smoothed it across her leg.
“Touch my clothes and die.”
“We’ll see. One day when you least expect it, the Style SWAT Team is gonna raid this place. Let’s go, our show’s coming on.” He gave her a hand up.
God. He was serious about sneaking in to remake her wardrobe. Damn meddling fool.