Cowboys are Forever (8 page)

An hour later on the way back home, Marielle sat hunched miserably on her side of the truck. She thought back to her high spirits and optimism a short while ago at the beginning of this ill-fated outing and choked back a bitter, ironic laugh.

She stole a sideways glance at Trey. His profile as he stared straight ahead at the road was grim. She noticed a muscle twitch in his jaw. She cleared her throat nervously to speak, a little unsure about what to say but feeling that she really should say something.

“Trey,” she told him hesitantly, “I’m sorry I shot your truck.”

Trey looked over at Marielle. “That’s all right, Marielle,” he said. “It was my fault. I should have taken the gun away from you after you shot the tail feathers off the hawk that was foolhardy enough to invade your airspace.”

“That was an accident!” she exclaimed. “You know I didn’t mean to shoot that poor bird. At least I didn’t really hurt it much. It flew away.”

“No, you didn’t hurt it much. Its tail feathers will grow back eventually. You probably hurt its pride more than anything,” he told her. “And I realize that you didn’t intend to shoot it.” He cast a glance at Marielle, his expression sober. “But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? You weren’t aiming anywhere close to that hawk.” He swerved to avoid a particularly deep pothole in the road. “Or my truck,” he muttered.

Marielle felt terrible. He was angry and disgusted with her and she couldn’t blame him. He’d tried to help her and what had she done? Blown a hole in the side of his shiny red pickup truck. She still wasn’t exactly sure how it happened. She was just relieved that it hadn’t been worse—that she hadn’t shot
him.

“Well,” she said attempting a small conciliatory smile in his direction, “You did say that you weren’t trying to turn me into another Annie Oakley, remember?

Trey met her gaze, unblinking, his dark eyes looking directly into hers. “I wasn’t going for Calamity Jane, either!” he answered.

Marielle felt herself turn scarlet, as she searched for the words to assure him that she’d pay for the damage to his truck. As she opened her mouth to speak, she saw his own mouth twitching at the corners. He broke into a broad grin and throwing his head back, laughed uproariously.

“Mari,” he said, still chuckling, “I’m sorry. I was just having some fun with you. I couldn’t resist teasing you a little. I’m not worried about the truck. It’s a work truck, after all. You should have seen my last one. I don’t consider a truck broken in good till it’s got a few holes in it.” He flashed her a wide, reassuring smile.

“You’re … you’re not made at me?” she inquired. “You don’t think I’m a klutz?” Marielle caught her breath as her turned the full impact of his sexy smile on her. He reached across and patted her hand. She felt a jolt of electricity travel all the way up her arms and straight to her heart.

“Of course I’m not mad at you,” Trey said gently. He patted her hand again soothingly and she shivered as more of those lightning bolts raced through her body. “Nor do I think that you’re a klutz. Why, you’re as graceful as a….”—he hesitated a beat—” a gazelle.”

Heartened by his kind words, Marielle started to thank him for them and then noticed that his full, sensuous lips had quirked upwards again. He chuckled. She flung his hand from her own. “Peter J. Masterson, you’re laughing at me again!” she told him hotly, then felt her own laughter bubbling up irrepressibly.

She stopped laughing when they hit a bump in the road that jounced her still-sore bottom painfully. She winced and gingerly shifted her position on the truck seat, trying to ease some of the discomfort.

Trey’s laughter stilled and he looked at her questioningly. “Marielle, is something wrong?”

She clenched her teeth and spoke as stoically as she could while they bounced across a particularly rough stretch of road. “I’m, uh, just a little sore, that’s all. From horseback riding.”

With a muffled oath, Trey swung the pickup off the pavement and parked on the side of the road. He turned to Marielle, his concern evident. “God!” he exclaimed. “I’m an idiot! Of course you’re sore—saddle sore. I should have known that. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you say something earlier, Mari?”

“Why? What could you have done about it?” she asked him. “If there’s some magic cowboy cure, lay it on me.” She indicated her lower torso with a rueful grimace. “From the inside of my knees up it feels like I’ve been through a meat grinder. Not to mention certain other, er, areas. I guess it’s a good think I hadn’t had much time to sit around the last few days.”

Trey moved closer to her and spoke softly. “I don’t have a magic cowboy cure. I wish I did. But I’d be more than glad to kiss it and make it better if you want to give that a try.”

Marielle was caught in the spell of his teasing voice. She stared at him, mesmerized, as she thought about his sensuous lips trailing across her bruised flesh. Would it make it better? Without a doubt. But even if it didn’t … .it would sure take her mind off her pain.

With a supreme effort of will, she tore her gaze from his. “Maybe we’d better stick to more conventional treatment,” she told him. “Is there some sort of cream or lotion or something I can use that will help?”

He grinned. “So you don’t have much faith in my powers as a medicine man, huh? Seriously, Mari, the best thing for what ails you is a long soak in the hottest water you can stand, with some Epsom salts and a handful of Consuelo’s mysterious herbs thrown in for good measure.” Seeing her inquisitive look, he went on. “Consuelo is my cook and housekeeper. Also my mother hen, fountain of advice, and occasional nurse. She’s been on the ranch longer than I have. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” He started the truck and pulled back out onto the blacktop. “I’ll just drop you off, go right over to my place and pick up a bath of Consuelo’s herbs, and bring them to you to put in your bath water.”

That sounded like a good plan to Marielle. She’d welcome some relief from the soreness that had plagued her since the first riding lesson. Then—

“Oh, no,” she groaned. “I just remembered. I don’t have any hot water. Something’s wrong with the water heater. It’s barely warm. I was going to mention it and see if you could recommend someone to fix it.

“I’ll take a look at it myself later,” he said. “The heating element probably burned out or something. First, though, we need to take care of you. I’ve got plenty of hot water. I’m going to take you home with me and turn you over to Consuelo. Believe me; she’ll know just what to do.”

Marielle smiled at him, grateful for his kindness and understanding. He might be an alpha male, she thought, but he was still one of the nicest guys she’d ever met. On the way to his ranch, she found herself wondering what type of woman he’d been married to and why it had ended in divorce. She’d detected bitterness in his voice when he’d made brief mention of his ex-wife. Apparently it hadn’t ended amicably. Hmm. Firmly reminding herself that it wasn’t any of her business, Marielle squelched her curiosity about Trey’s past marital problems and spent the remainder of the drive chattering about her ranch and related topics.

“Here we are,” Trey told her, wheeling the pickup down a long, tree-lined drive. Marielle looked at the big, two-story log house in admiration.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. And meant it. The rustic house was nestled at the base of two towering snow-covered peaks that rose up sharply behind it. The mountains seemed to be sheltering the house, holding it protectively close to their mighty strength.

“Thanks,” Trey said briefly, swinging out of the truck and coming over to pen Marielle’s door. He smiled. “It’s home. The only home I’ve ever had or ever wanted.” Taking her elbow, he started down the granite walk to the wide front porch. He looked down at her, his eyes twinkling. “The only time I’ve ever been away from the ranch for any length of time was when I was in college out on the west coast. I was so homesick that I begged Mom and Dad to let me drop out and come back here. But they wouldn’t hear of it and I’m glad. Ranching is like running any other business. There’s a lot you need to know about managing finances, not to mention agriculture.”

Marielle hadn’t thought of that, and said as much.

“Oh, yeah,” Trey assured her. “To stay afloat nowadays and make a profit, a rancher has to keep abreast of the new developments in animal husbandry, land management, world commodities markets, the whole ball of wax.” He grinned at her mischievously while opening the massive front door. I’ve even got a computer,” he teased. “But I’m still much happier working outside, working with my hands.”

Marielle stole a glance at the hands in question as he took his hat off and hung it on a rack by the door, then smoothed his jet-black hair back. Darned nice hands they were, too, she thought—big, strong, tanned and capable-looking. Her wayward imagination placed those masculine hands on her pale skin, their touch sure and strong …

“Marielle, this is Consuelo.” With a guilty start, Marielle came out of her reverie to see the pleasant face of the plump little woman in front of her who’d joined them in the hall.

“Hello, Consuelo,” Marielle said, warming to the older woman immediately. The housekeeper gave her a beaming smile of welcome. Once Trey had explained why he’d brought Marielle home, Consuelo sprang into action, bustling around busily and telling them both not to worry, she’d have the “poor
niña”
feeling much better in no time.

Consuelo was a good as her word, Marielle decided a short while later as she lay soaking in a huge tub full of fragrant, steaming water. Whatever the woman had added to her bath, it was already helping ease the pain and soreness. As Marielle relaxed, nearly dozing, Consuelo appeared bearing a cup and saucer.

“Drink this herb tea,” the housekeeper instructed, handing it to Marielle. “It will combine with the herbs in the bath and help you even more.” Consuelo laid out a big, fluffy towel while she spoke. “When you are all done with the bath, you dry off and put this salve all over your hurt places,” she said indicating a small jar that she produced from a capacious apron pocket. “Then you take the jar and give it to Senór Trey. Because I am thinking of whipping
his
behind for being such a big dummy and letting you stay so long on the horse.”

Marielle laughed. The image of the short, round little woman with her kind eyes and soft voice administering a whipping to Trey was amusing. “Thank you, Consuelo,” she said. “I feel much better already. Trey was right—you’re a wonder.”

“He was right about you, too, Senórita Marielle. He said that you were a beautiful and nice lady.” Consuelo cast a shrewd glance at Marielle. “Maybe beautiful and nice enough to change his mind about staying single, I think. It would be nice to have a few little ones playing in this big house. I would like that very much.” She paused. “And so would Senór Stubborn if he would just forget that spoiled and foolish woman he brought to this place once.” She shook her head. “He no longer has the tender feelings for that loco lady, you understand. But he cannot realize that all women aren’t like her.”

Marielle felt herself blush. “Oh, Consuelo, you’ve got the wrong idea. Trey and I—-there’s nothing like that between us. Honestly.”

Consuelo opened the bathroom door to leave. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiled knowingly. “Are you sure about that, senorita?”

Marielle lolled happily in the healing water after the housekeeper went out. She sipped her tea and mulled over the conversation that had just taken place. She had denied any sort of romantic involvement with Trey, but she knew very well how powerfully attracted she was to him. The attraction grew stronger the more she got to know him. He was funny, intelligent, courteous, kind, and thoughtful. A bit arrogant and a little too sure of himself at times, maybe. But even that was attractive in its own way.

That and more, she told herself dryly. He had all those sterling qualities. True. And Marielle could certainly appreciate all of his character assets. But the fact that he was the sexiest man she’d ever met, who could set her on fire with just one look from those dark bedroom eyes wasn’t exactly hurting things, was it.

She giggled and swished her toes in the relaxing water. No, she thought dreamily. Those qualities didn’t exactly detract from his appeal. Still, no matter how appealing she found him, she had to stay grounded and keep her priorities in order. She’d moved up here to realize her dream of living closer to the land and eventually try to succeed as an illustrator of children’s books. Those were the goals she intended to stay focused on.