Cowboys are Forever (12 page)

She watched him, taking in the sight of his lean, muscular body striding in her direction. Hat pulled low to shield his face from the wind, both hands in the pickets of his shearling jacket, he was masculinity in motion. While she watched, he looked up and flashed her an irresistible smile. Marielle’s own face lit up in pleasure, her earlier qualms instantly forgotten. Realizing how quickly she was backsliding, she brought herself up short.

Honestly, she berated herself, all he had to do was smile at her once and her resolve to be rational instead of emotional went right down the drain. Peter J. Masterson III was just too darned handsome and charming for his own good … or hers. Marielle hoped he didn’t have a bridge for sale in Brooklyn—she’d probably buy it.

“Hi,” Trey said, stopping in front of her. “I stopped by to let you know there’s a winter storm warning for tonight.”

“Yes, I heard that on the radio this morning,” Marielle replied. She glanced up at the steel-gray sky. “Do you think it will get bad?”

“It could. Weather is pretty unpredictable in these mountains. Sometimes we get snowed in above the windowsills up here when there’s hardly any accumulation down in Jackson.” Trey glanced around appraisingly. “Have you got troughs filled with water for the horses?” He glanced won at the lamb standing next to Marielle. “And your little friend here?”

“No, the troughs aren’t completely full,” Marielle answered. “Why? Can’t I still water them every day even if it snows?”

“If we have a bad enough storm, the electricity will go off,” Trey said. “It can stay off for days, a week, even longer.”

Marielle looked at him, perplexed. “What has the electricity got to do with the water?” she asked.

Trey stared at her briefly before replying. “Marielle,” he explained patiently, “the water comes out of the well by means of a pump. The pump is run by electricity. Without the pump, how do you propose to get the water from the well—haul it up with a bucket? Your well is almost eighty feet deep. Think about it.”

Marielle fumed silently. He didn’t have to talk to her as if she were slow-witted just because she hadn’t lived up here long enough yet to understand how everything worked.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she acknowledged stiffly.

Trey took off his hat and raked his long fingers through his black hair, then heaved an audible sigh. “No, you didn’t,” he told her. “And I’m willing to bet that there are a whole lot of other things you haven’t thought of, either,” He glanced around again, then started toward the house. Marielle followed hurrying to keep up.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Like making sure that there’s plenty of wood under that shed outside the back door, for starters,” Trey said over his shoulder, on his way around the house to the backyard.

Uh-oh, Marielle thought guiltily. Actually she’d let the shed run quite low on firewood. She’d been intending to restock it, but had been so caught up in her painting, trying to get samples of her work ready to send to New York, that she hadn’t gotten around to it.

Trey peered inside the lean-to attached to the back of the house and swore. “Damn it, Marielle! It’s almost empty.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ll need to have water drawn up for yourself, too. Go ahead and start getting that done while I get some wood in here.”

Well, of all the nerve, Marielle thought angrily. Who did he think he was, bossing her around like this? “I can get my own wood in, Trey,” she informed him huffily. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of things that you need to be doing on your own place.”
In other words,
she added silently,
go home.

He glared at her, a muscle twitching in his square jaw. “Listen, Miss High-and-Mighty,” he said, “If you’re trying to say that you can take care of yourself, save your breath. I think we’ve already established that you can’t. What would you have done if I hadn’t come to see about you today? … .If you woke up tomorrow morning without electricity and found the whole place buried under several feet of snow? Huh? Have you got enough Perrier stockpiled to keep you and the animals going indefinitely, Marielle?”

“There is a huge pile of firewood stacked right back there, Mr. Know-it-all,” Marielle flashed back angrily. Oh, great, she thought. They’d both resorted to name calling.

Trey rocked back on his heels and surveyed her, a sardonic expression on his handsome face. His mouth quirked in a derisive grin. “Uh-huh,” he agreed. “There sure is. Got a snowplow handy to uncover that woodpile when the snow gets up taller than it is, Mari?”

Marielle stared mutely at Trey. Checkmate, she thought in resignation. She couldn’t argue with him. He was right. “Okay,” she said shortly. “Point taken. I’m a little inexperienced. I’m a city girl, remember? I’ll learn.”

Trey laughed shortly. “Yeah, if you live long enough.” He shook his head wearily. “Marielle, you just don’t get it. This is hard, unforgiving country. And bad weather doesn’t make allowances for a person’s ignorance about how to survive in it … or show any mercy because of it, either. Your first mistake could be your last.”

Marielle listened, subdued by the gravity of his words. She did have a lot to learn—more than she’d realized. And her animals depended on her, even if she was living alone. The lamb nuzzled against her leg and she leaned down to pet it. Trey heaved a clearly exasperated sigh.

“I rest my case,” he stated flatly, eyeing the young animal. “You’ve brought that animal home and made a pet out of something that wasn’t intended to be a pet. Ranching is a business, Marielle. It has to be taken seriously. A lot of things have to be taken seriously up here. You can’t just spend your time playing with that lamb and waxing poetic about the beauties of nature—or that nature itself will chew you up and spit you out.”

Marielle’s temper rose anew, but she forced herself to conceal her ire. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d discouraged and frightened her … again. Which, she thought in mounting fury, was possibly exactly what he was trying to do- to discourage her, frighten her, so that she’d give up and sell the ranch to him. She’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but here he was again … .pointing out all the reasons she couldn’t last on a mountain ranch.

To her horror, she felt perilously close to tears. In addition to her righteous anger, she also felt hurt.

She titled her chin rebelliously. “Are you through?” she asked. “I’m cold and I want to go inside.”

“No, ma’am, I’m not through,” was Trey’s laconic reply. “If I don’t get you some wood up in here before that storm moves in, you’re liable to get a lot colder. So, since you’re going to ignore any advice I give you anyway, you may as well go on in the house. I’ll see to the water at the barn, too.”

He removed his hat with exaggerated courtesy. “Since I’m obviously not going to get any appreciation for being your unpaid hired hand, Miss Stevens, do you think it might be possible for me to get a hot cup of coffee when I’m through?”

Marielle gritted her teeth. “Of course,” she grounded out through clenched lips. “I’ll put some coffee on now.” She whirled and headed toward the back door, head high. She stopped. “Thank you,” she said coldly, without turning around, then resumed her indignant march to the house.

She heard Trey chuckle, then begin laughing outright. Ooohh, she fumed, thoroughly incensed; now he was going to add insult to injury by laughing at her. Stung, she pivoted to confront him. “What’s so funny? She snapped.

“Mari had a little lamb,” Trey said, still laughing, “and everywhere that Mari went the lamb was sure to go.”

Marielle looked down at the source of his mirth. Forgotten in her hurt and anger, the lamb still trotted right at her feet, matching her step for step. Her eyes narrowed in fury. She was tired of Trey making fun of her. It was about time he was taught a lesson.

“Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater—had a wife and couldn’t keep her,” Marielle taunted. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she regretted them. Regardless of whether he wanted to buy her out or not, he
had
helped her a lot … shown her generosity and kindness. He didn’t deserve the kind of low blow she had just delivered.

Marielle saw the laughter fade from his handsome face. He regarded her gravely. “Ouch,” he said quietly.

She couldn’t stand it, she realized. Couldn’t bear to hurt him, to be the reason for the smile to die in those deep, dark-chocolate eyes. She flew across the space that separated them and, without hesitating or stopping to think about her actions, wanting only to comfort him for the pain that she had inflicted, threw her arms around him.

“Trey,” she said softly, “Trey … I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Please forgive me. I—I didn’t mean it. With these words, the tears so close to the surface welled up and overflowed. Marielle buried her face on Trey’s chest and wept. His arms encircled her and he held her close to the warmth of his strong, sheltering body. His big hands smoothed her hair and he murmured soothingly.

She felt a peace come over her, a safe, secure feeling of complete contentment. It seemed to Marielle that some vague, unsettling feeling, some unresolved inner conflict, was laid to rest. Suddenly, she knew that she was wrong to harbor any suspicions of underhandedness about this man … .that he was everything that a man should be … .and more. Much more.

When her tears subsided, Trey held her away from him slightly, and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. With one hand, he brushed the trace of the tears she’d shed from her cheek, then leaned down and brushed her lips in a feather-soft kiss. “You don’t owe me an apology, Mari. I was too hard on you, and I’m sorry. If I’m going to dish it out, I should be prepared to take it. Will you forgive me?”

Overcome by emotion, Marielle could only nod dumbly. He stared back at her, his fathomless gaze seeming to convey a message of great importance. She saw the telltale twitch in his rugged jaw, and then he pulled her to him again almost roughly, his arms tightening around her for an instant like bands of steel. He buried his face in her hair, and breathed deeply. When he spoke, his voice was deep and rough with emotion.

“I tend to overreact sometimes when someone I care about is in a dangerous situation. The thought of anything happening to you, Marielle Stevens—it just makes me crazy. Now,” he said, turning her to face the house, “You go put that coffee on. We both need it.”

Marielle stood in front of the open closet of her bedroom, trying to decide what to wear to the dance tonight. Her hand touched the garments hanging there one by one, occasionally stopping to pull a dress out for closer inspection. This midnight blue velvet? No, she decided. Too formal. The black lace? She shook her head. Too sophisticated. Her eyes fell on a sheath of shimmery amber silk. This one, maybe? She considered it briefly, then decided against it. Too citified.

Trey had told her that although the men didn’t bother with tuxedos or black tie, they did wear their dress western clothes. And the women, he’d said, went all out. Most of the women lived on ranches and didn’t get too many opportunities to wear their party finery. So they looked forward to this dance and others like it as a chance to dress up. Marielle hadn’t packed much in the way of evening wear when she’d moved out here. Now, looking at the few dresses hanging in her closet and dismissing them for one reason or another, she wished she had a wider selection. For some reason, it was important to her that she look her best tonight.

Not, she told herself sternly for the umpteenth time, that it had anything to do with her escort. Of course not. Her heart beat faster, just thinking about him … his lean maleness, his slow, sexy smile, his bedroom eyes—okay, she ruefully acknowledged. It
was
her escort who sparked the desire to show herself to her best advantage tonight. Female vanity, she told herself. What normal, red-blooded woman wouldn’t want to look her best for a hunk like Trey?

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and gasped. Six-thirty! Trey would be here to pick her up in fifteen minutes and she hadn’t even made up her mind what to wear. She’d spent longer than usual on her hair and makeup, vacillating between wearing her hair up or down, straight or curled, and so on. Now, she thought, she’d better quit agonizing over what to wear and put
something
on or she wouldn’t even be ready when he got here.

She hastily rummaged through her closet again. Wait, what was that? A zippered garment bag hung at the back of the small closet. Her brows furrowed and she tried to recall what it held. Then she remembered and pulled it out hurriedly, unzipping the bag even as she went to remove it from the closet rod. She laughed out loud in delight as the dress was revealed.