City Girl Read online

  Not wanting him to see the confusion in her eyes, she backed away into the deep snow that had drifted against a nearby fence. She floundered as she tried to get a long shot of the line of feeding stands with the cattle busily eating, and the dog circling the man and boys, keeping them together in a small herd. She needed more elevation. The fence would provide that. She hooked her heels on the strands of barbed wire and held on to a post. Spotting her, Marsh barked and raced over to her, catching the toe of her boot in his teeth.

  She screamed and nearly toppled over onto the other side of the fence, but Kirk snatched her down unceremoniously, tumbling to the snow with her.

  “For the love of Mike, woman,” he said impatiently, “what are you doing?”

  “Your dog tried bite off my foot!”

  “He did not.” He stood and hauled her up. “Marsh was simply doing what he does best,” he went on, brushing snow off her. “Trying to keep his people together. You should be grateful. You damn near fell into the pasture with the bulls.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Bulls? I thought they were more cows.”

  He sighed gustily and shook his head. “Look again. Those are bulls mixed in with the steers, city girl, big, bad, mean bulls that can run at the speed of a freight train and hit with the impact of a locomotive.”

  She looked again, frowning. “What’s the difference?”

  He laughed and swung an arm around her shoulders, bringing her up close against his side. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t know the difference between males and females? I’d be more than happy to offer a few anatomy lessons.”

  Liss felt heat rise in her cheeks as she stepped away from him. “I know the difference, of course. Basically. But at forty paces, cattle are cattle.”

  He shook his head. “Check the shapes, photographer, the lines and angles. Bulls and men are pretty much the same. At forty paces you can tell the difference between a man and a woman, can’t you?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Broader shoulders,” he said, taking her hands and lifting them to his shoulders, making her very aware of the breadth of them under his sheepskin jacket, “and narrower hips.” Instead of moving her hands down to his hips, he cradled hers in his warm grip, smoothing his palms over her jeans, pulling her toward him. “Bulls and men are hard. Women are soft,” he added, bending to brush his mouth over hers.

  “Hey,” she said, half laughing as she slipped out of his loose clasp. “I told you I don’t need anatomy lessons. Now that you’ve pointed it out, I can see the difference in shape between cows—or are they steers—and bulls.”

  His eyes held a devilish light. “And men and women? Or should we explore that one further?”

  “No,” she said. “We shouldn’t. I know all I need to know.”

  “But,” he murmured, touching her cheek again, “I don’t. And I’d like—very much—to explore them with you.”

  “Let’s explore the ranch instead . . . partner.”

  He gave her a crooked smile and sighed. “Sure . . .partner.” He took her hand and, together with the children and the dog, they set off again.

  “You really love this place, don’t you?” Liss asked some time later.

  Kirk smiled. “Yeah, I do. There’s something about the land, the animals, the good growing things, even the elements I have to fight to keep it all together. It’s a challenge I could never leave.”

  Liss thought about Gina saying that she hadn’t truly been trying to lure him away, that she could live here year-round. Had that been the argument between them, the one for which Gina wanted forgiveness?

  Kirk leaned on a fence post, gazing around the pasture where they stood, and smiled. “Even at forty below, breaking ice so the cows can drink, or heaving fodder until my back breaks, or cutting hay in the heat with chaff itching in . . . strange places, I wouldn’t trade it, as precarious as it is.”

  “Precarious?”

  He turned to face her. “It doesn’t take much to wipe out a rancher. Loss of stock to disease, machinery going belly-up, drought—which means no hay for winter feed, which means you have to buy it. Lots of things can hurt. Some can kill.”

  Liss was thoughtful for several moments. “Like having four extra people to support, two more wages to pay?” She suspected he had been managing the books all right without Mrs. Healy’s help, and if he had a wife, he wouldn’t have to pay her the dividend he paid Liss, right out of the ranch’s profits.

  He smiled and touch her face with his cold fingers. “Don’t you worry about that. The ranch can support all of us.

  But Liss couldn’t help wondering if finances hadn’t had a lot to do with Kirk’s initial resentment of the way Ambrose had arranged things. It wasn’t, when she thought about it, very fair to Kirk at all.

  Chapter Five

  The afternoon sped by, and Liss knew they must have covered miles of territory yet seen only a small portion of the ranch. When they returned to the house, she leaned against the pasture fence admiring Kirk’s frisky, black-maned horse, Chieftain, who spent only nights and very bad days in his stable in the smaller barn.

  “You could learn to ride,” Kirk said, leaning beside her, his shoulder large and warm, his bulk blocking the cold wind. He tipped his hat back as he swept his gaze over her. “You have an inborn grace that would make you a natural.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “That I should learn, that is. I could really get out there with my camera, then, couldn’t I?” She swept her arm in an arc. “And with the kids so enthusiastic about getting ponies in the spring, I guess I’ll have to try it again, if only to stay with them and make sure they don’t stray into bull territory.”

  Kirk grinned. “Now that you know the difference.”

  She met his gaze. “And the danger.”

  He sobered and she read the question—and the intent—in his eyes. Her heart pounded hard as she acknowledged that there were other, greater dangers on this ranch, and that Kirk meant to lead her into them if she offered him the least bit of encouragement. She did not. There was more to her, more to life, than chocolate cake.

  Ryan’s plaintive “Can we go in now, Mom? My legs are tired of walking,” broke the taut silence between them.

  “Okay,” she said, taking both cameras from around her neck preparatory to sliding each into its case. The scenery kept calling her to crest one more hill, round one more corner, take one more photograph. The light was failing, though, and there’d be little more photography that day. “Let’s go. You can watch cartoons while I get dinner ready.”

  The boys, in spite, of their tired legs, ran on ahead, laughing and shouting as they jockeyed for position going up the back steps. The sound of the door slamming behind them rang in the clear, cold air. Liss gave in to temptation and quickly zoomed in with her digital for a couple of last long shots out over the silvery river and the Cariboo range to the west, where an iridescent mother-of-pearl sunset created a backdrop for the starkly black mountain crests.

  “For a lady so reluctant to come and live in the ‘wilderness,”‘ Kirk said when she was done, and had put her smaller camera away, “you seem to have taken to it very nicely today.” He took her bag and draped it over his shoulder.

  She smiled up at him as they walked along the tractor ruts toward the house. “I’ve enjoyed myself this afternoon. This is a very beautiful part of the world.”

  “Yes, it is, and you’ll have plenty of opportunity to ply your trade, so you can afford to take a break when the sun sets.” He took her hand again. “Winter lasts a long time up here in the mountains.” It hardly felt like winter. The sunny day had been warm enough to make icicles drip from the eaves of the barn, warm enough that she had shed her gloves to take photos, warm enough that now, her entire body responded to the feel of his rough, hard fingers wrapping around hers, then leaped to full attention as he drew her to a halt at the corner of the garage. He touched her chin with one finger, brushing it over the scar that seemed to fascinate him. His thumbnail t
raced its shape, then smoothed over her lower lip, making her wonder if he was about to kiss her again, making her wish he would. She turned her face away. Dammit, she shouldn’t want his touch so much! She shouldn’t let him make her go weak in the legs and even weaker in the head. She shook herself free and continued on toward the house. He walked along beside her, but then stopped her at the bottom of the steps.

  “Don’t go in yet,” he said, gently grasping her arm. “Let’s watch the sunset fade.”

  She turned toward the west, then glanced at him. “You’re not looking at the sunset.”

  “I can see it reflected in your eyes. You have beautiful eyes,” he whispered. “Soft and brown one minute, then bright and shiny, almost black, another. They speak of your moods.” His thumb stroked her lower lip, leaving a burning, tingling sensation in its wake.

  She could scarcely talk. “Kirk, don’t . . .”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t touch me like that.”

  Again, his voice was low, intimate. “Why not?”

  “Because—because you’re only doing it because I’m . . . handy. Let’s face it, you sure don’t need me. You have plenty of women in your life as it is.” He dropped his hands.

  “Do you know how insulting that is? And what ‘women’ might you be referring to?” he asked in a dangerously soft tone.

  She raised her chin determinedly. “Gina, for one.”

  “Gina’s a . . .” He grinned sourly. “Do I dare say it? A thing of the past.”

  “Is she?”

  Kirk sighed inwardly as he watched doubt and perplexity play across Liss’s face. He wanted, suddenly and almost irresistibly, to kiss her deeply, for a long time, until those doubts were erased. Unable to stop himself, he slid a hand into her thick ‘ hair and bent closer . . . then hesitated. Hell, what was he doing? His future was all mapped out, and it didn’t include a permanent, full-time woman, which was all this woman would ever want from a man. Dammit, it was what she had every right to expect! What she deserved. He knew that, so what the hell was he doing tempting fate this way? Tempting himself!

  “And Kristy?” she asked quickly, twisting free. He scowled. He didn’t want her to leave yet. He wanted to have at least the subject of other women out of the way, so it wouldn’t crop up between them again. Pulling her back around, he slid his hands under her red ski jacket and locked them at the small of her back.

  “I met Kristy two years ago when I sprained an ankle. She works in the local. hospital as an X-ray technician. We dated a few times after that, then stopped seeing each other that way. We’re friends. She’s dating a truck driver now.”

  He wondered what Liss would do if he pulled her more tightly against him, letting her know beyond any doubt that she was the woman who interested him, moved him, made him ache. He resisted the urge. It would be too hard to control, and something told him that with this woman and the potent effect she had on him, control was absolutely necessary until he knew exactly where this wild attraction was headed.

  “And Patty?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  He was so astounded, he relaxed his hold on her. “Patty? What about her?”

  “Isn’t she another of your girlfriends, ex- or otherwise?”

  Liss clenched her teeth as his laughter rang out. She resented his laughing at her, but his next words proved the laughter was not at her expense.

  “Not by any stretch of anybody’s imagination, except for hers, when she was seventeen and developed a crush on me when I first came here. She drove me nuts for three months, following me around. But she grew up and got over it, thank heavens. Now she drives me crazy in a different way, playing the vamp to help me convince her cousin Gina that it’s all over between us, and that if I want anything from her it’s friendship.”

  He sobered and scowled. “As you saw, though, Gina’s not prepared to accept that, so friendship’s out, I guess. No matter. I can do without her brand.”

  His expression, a blend of masculine confusion, concern, and embarrassment, did more to convince Liss than any of his words had, and all at once she felt lighthearted and carefree. “Friendship’s a fine thing to have,” she said, adroitly slipping out of his loose embrace. “I recommend it highly.” She grinned at him over her shoulder as she ran up the steps.

  * * * *

  “Are you going to be busy this morning?” Kirk asked as he came in for breakfast on Wednesday, Marsh at his heels. The dog lay down on his blanket in the utility room, while Kirk, after knocking the snow off his boots, continued on into the kitchen, carrying two large bottles of milk.

  Liss set her crossword book aside and looked up with a smile that faltered as her pulse went mad. Dammit, when was she going to get used to seeing him come in, watching him tip that Stetson of his to the back of his head, smiling at her from under his thick fall of fair hair? When was she going to stop responding? Next thing you know, she told herself, he’d tip his hat back and she’d start drooling like Pavlov’s dogs.

  “I’ve enrolled the boys in preschool,” she said, jumping quickly to her feet to pull a pan of hot biscuits from the oven. “This will be their first day, “ she went on, setting the pan on a cooling rack. “All I have to do is take them there and drop them off. Why, was there something you wanted me to do?”

  She opened the refrigerator to put the fresh milk inside, and he leaned over her as he set his hat up on top. She drew in a deep breath of his outdoors scent, then quickly slipped away to fetch the rest of his breakfast from the warming oven. When he came in from milking, he came in starved. It took an enormous amount of food to keep him filled up.

  “You said your furniture is arriving tomorrow,” he said as he sat down at the table, “so I thought if I’m going to get a carpet laid in the playroom, it would be easier to do it before there’s much stuff in there. How about I go with you to take the boys to school, and while they’re occupied, we’ll buy the carpet.”

  “Sure,” she said. “But can you expect to find a carpet layer who’ll com on only a few hours’ notice?”

  He laughed as he tossed a biscuit from hand to hand, cooling it to touchable temperature before he spread butter on it, then popped half of it into his mouth at once. He tapped his chest with one finger as he swallowed. “I’m the carpet layer, city girl. Out here, we do things for ourselves.”

  “You know how to lay carpet?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve never done it before, but I’ve read up on it.” He didn’t add that he’d been reading up on it the past couple of nights because, tired as he was from a long day of work, something—or someone—tended to keep him awake. So he read.

  Liss laughed softly. “Carpet laying by the book. This,” she murmured, “I’ve gotta see.”

  He grinned. “O ye of little faith . . .”

  * * * *

  “What are those things for?” Jason asked. He tried to grab one of the narrow strips of wood, studded with tiny, sharp, angled nails, that Kirk had set on the floor immediately after they arrived back home.

  “Whoa!” Kirk lunged in time to prevent Jason’s hands from being lacerated. “Don’t touch! Those are called tack strips and they’re very sharp. They’d hurt you if you picked them up. I’m going to nail them along the floor like this, right up close to the wall, with the pointed parts up. When I put the carpet down, it gets hooked on the little nails and stays where I put it.”

  He had talked too long for Jason’s short attention span. The three-year-old had darted away before he was finished, and launched himself onto the roll of green rubber underlay. He mounted it as if it were a horse and bounced violently on it, shouting “Giddy!” repeatedly and with increasing volume.

  “Neat,” Ryan said, kneeling beside Kirk to peer at the tack strips, but not touching. “Can I help?” He picked up Kirk’s tape measure, pushed the button, and laughed wildly as nine feet of steel tape snaked back inside its casing with a wicked whish! Startled when the end whipped past his nose, Kirk jumped and knocked over a
can of nails. They tinkled and rolled and spread over a great area.

  “Sorry, guys, it’s nap time,” Liss said, seeing a crazed, trapped look enter Kirk’s eyes. “Let’s go.” The boys protested, but she got them settled in their beds. Within moments both were asleep, worn out from their morning at preschool. Liss smiled, remembering Jason’s expression earlier that morning when he’d realized she was leaving him at the school. He’d looked as though she were abandoning him in a leaky boat in shark-infested waters with a storm coming up. By the time she and Kirk returned two hours later to collect them, though, neither of the boys wanted to leave. They were hoping to stay for three hours tomorrow.

  Back downstairs, she reentered the playroom. “Now,” she said, shoving her sleeves up. “Tell me what I can do to help.” This was the way to do things, she thought. Keep it businesslike. Nothing more than two partners working together on a project of mutual interest.

  Kirk looked up from his task of fastening the last of the tack strips to the floor. “Believe me, you’ve already helped. Sometimes, too many hands make more work, especially when some of those hands belong to little guys.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that? Why do you think mothers invented naps?”

  His eyes danced. “I can see that naps are a real boon.”

  He grunted as he heaved the roll of waffle like underlay over to one wall. “Stand on the end of this, will you, while I get the rest of it spread out.” She did as he asked, but as he unrolled the bulky stuff, her weight wasn’t enough to keep the entire end down. The two corners rolled back up and curled around her knees, then her waist, creeping toward her shoulders as Kirk got farther away.

  “Uh, what did the book say about this?” she asked as she fought to hold the underlay back. Kirk turned from his task and gaped at her. “It . . . didn’t,” he said. “Hmm. Well, hold it down as best you can.”

  She spread her feet apart, but that helped only minimally. She bent forward at the waist, putting her hands on the floor, too, and managed to hold down a larger area, but the awkward position was not one she could maintain for long. Spying a hammer in the doorway, she walked her hands forward and managed to grab it. With a grunt, she started back the way she’d come, inchworm-style. When Kirk burst into laughter, she glanced at him upside down between her knees.