Harlequin American Romance November 2014 Box Set: The SEAL's Holiday Babies\The Texan's Christmas\Cowboy for Hire\The Cowboy's Christmas Gift (58 page)

Now he was sound asleep, and she thought back to the kiss they'd shared today. It troubled her. Every time they got too close or touched, Carrie felt as if she was going to combust. Duke didn't make it easy either, asking stupid questions.

Like demanding one good reason why they shouldn't explore what was between them.

A week ago, maybe it would have been safe. Maybe she should have just gone through with it then and got Duke Duggan out of her system. But she hadn't. Instead he'd brought her coffee. Bought her breakfast. Asked for her advice and help. She'd seen him work around the ranch, swallowing his pride and honest to goodness learning from everyone from Quinn down to the part-time teenager who came in after school to work in the horse barn.

He made chili. Played cards with the guys by lamplight and laughed when he lost.

He wanted one good reason? She liked him too much. She liked Duke a whole lot, and sleeping with him would only make it more likely that she'd get hurt. At first she'd thought he was the solution to all their problems. But now...she could see he was troubled. It was in the strange moments of silence and the sober expression on his face when he thought no one was looking. There was more going on with Duke than she suspected most people realized.

She shifted again, but Duke never moved.

Dawn was beginning to lighten the sky when more of the crew began to stir in that peculiar restlessness that happened just before waking. Carrie was just about to swing her legs over the side of the cot and turn the temperature up on the heater when an eerie sound crept out of the darkness.

Coyotes. Dammit.

“You hear that?” a raspy voice whispered from a few cots away.

“Yeah, I heard,” she whispered back. “I hope they're not hunting.”

“Strange for this time of year. The calves aren't babies anymore.” It was Tim's voice, one of the guys from Triple B.

“You folks been having any trouble over at your place?”

“Not so much.”

The howl echoed again, followed by some yips and more howling. “I'm hoping moving the herd closer to the main house will solve the problem,” she admitted. “Once a coyote gets a taste he keeps coming back. I should've started trapping two weeks ago.”

Jack sat up on his cot. “The noise is coming from down by the river. Crap.”

Carrie let out a breath and crawled out of the warmth of her sleeping bag. There was more quiet shuffling as the other hands woke.

All except Duke. His head was tucked onto his left hand, and he slept on, oblivious to the noises around him. It was as though he couldn't even hear the howling or the sounds of the nylon sleeping bags.

Considering she'd been awake since five, she envied him the ability to sleep so soundly.

Now that almost everyone was up, someone turned on a lamp, and shuffling sounds riffled through the space, along with the odd zipper of a jacket or pack. Carrie was just shoving her arms into a flannel shirt when Duke's eyes opened and he stretched his arms over his head. Her gaze was drawn to his long arms and curved shoulders, still in a T-shirt, but it didn't do much to camouflage his physique. Carrie looked away and focused on buttoning the shirt over the tank top she'd slept in.

“What's going on?” His voice was gritty from disuse and sexy as hell.

“Coyotes down by the river. The howling woke most of us up.”

“I must've slept soundly.” His gaze skittered away from hers as he responded. He unzipped his sleeping bag and crawled out.

He'd removed his jeans and had slept in his long underwear—not the thick thermal kind either, but tight-fitting athletic wear in solid black. The fabric skimmed and clung to the muscles in his legs and she tried not to stare. Then he stood up, gave a little hobble and winced.

She managed a chuckle. “Long ride yesterday, huh.”

He nodded. “Longer one today.”

“You're going to need a long soak in a hot tub by tonight,” she warned him, grinning. “Tenderfoot.”

He reached for his pants at the foot of his cot, the motion putting them slightly closer together. “You joining me?” he asked quietly, his voice low and intimate.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Stop doing that.”

“Sorry.” His tone was anything but contrite.

“Hey, Carrie. You want a couple of us to ride out and see what's up?”

“I'll come with you,” she said, turning her back on Duke's seductive eyes.

“Do you need help?” Duke asked, coming to stand by her shoulder.

She only half turned toward him. “Naw, a few of us is all we need. They guys know what to do. We'll have breakfast and pack up and be on the go soon. Just save me some bacon, okay?”

Within minutes three of them were saddling up their mounts and heading down toward the riverbed. As they approached the cattle, they could sense the agitation in the herd. Several animals were clumped together in a protective group. Riding farther on, Carrie spotted blood on the fresh snow, along with mud and dirt where hooves had churned up the grass beneath in their hurry to escape.

The animal hadn't escaped. Neither had it been killed. They found the heifer several yards away, down on the ground, wounded and gasping for breath.

Carrie swallowed thickly. She guessed their approach had scared the pack away, or they would have finished the job. A nearly grown cow was harder to bring down than a new calf, and they'd never had this problem before. The animal had to be stopped. When she got back to the ranch, she'd talk to Quinn about setting some traps. Coyotes were a way of life here, but an aggressive hunter was a big problem.

She dismounted and reached for the gun she always carried when she was out this far. Saliva pooled in her mouth as her stomach churned. Randy, one of the men who'd come along, put his hand on her arm.

“You want me to do this?” he asked quietly.

“Naw. I've got it.” She handed him Sage's reins. This was not the part of the job she relished, but she couldn't watch the poor animal suffer, either. She walked over to the cow, clicked off the safety, took aim and fired.

The herd shifted restlessly again as the shot echoed through the valley. The men were respectfully quiet as she slid the rifle back into place and mounted up.

“Keep your eyes open,” she instructed the men. “If you see any animal from that pack, shoot it.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

But there was no glimpse of grayish-brown hair, no howls or yips to indicate the pack was close by.

The sky was much brighter when they returned to camp, and Carrie took some extra time looking after Sage while Randy and Jack followed the smell of bacon and coffee. It wasn't until they were gone that she let go and rested her head on Sage's warm hide.

It was her job. She wouldn't be much of a foreman if she left the tough tasks to the men. She'd had to earn respect, and now she had to keep it. And in her heart she knew that heifer was far better off, out of its pain and suffering.

But she hated taking a life of any sort.

“Hey, you okay?”

Duke's voice came from behind her and she quickly sniffed and wiped her nose on the side of her glove. “I'm fine. Cold out. Makes my nose run.”

A cup of coffee appeared in her peripheral vision. “It's cold out. Warm up,” he instructed. “Your nose is running.”

She peeled off her gloves and accepted the cup, the heat welcome against her chilled fingers. “Thanks,” she said, but frowned a little. Had he not heard her comment on the cold or her nose?

He came around to her right side. “Jack said you took the shot.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I should watch my p's and q's around you a bit more.”

She couldn't help but smile at his obvious attempt to tease. “Maybe you should,” she answered, but her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Come in and have some breakfast,” Duke suggested. “You'll feel better.”

She turned to face him fully. “How did you do it, Duke? How did you handle being in the army, being deployed, having to fire on...on other human beings?” She couldn't ask him if he'd ever killed anyone. She didn't think she wanted to know.

“I don't know how to answer that.” His gray eyes delved into hers. “You just do. It's your job. And if someone fires on you...”

Of course. You're going to fire back.
She knew that in her head. But if she had such a difficult time shooting a cow, she knew she could never stare down the barrel at another person. In that moment, Duke seemed very much like a stranger to her. He'd lived a life she could never understand, so perhaps she shouldn't expect him to understand hers so quickly.

“Come on,” he said, turning away. “The drive isn't going to wait all morning. You need to fuel up.”

“I'll be right there. I'm going to see if I have any hope of cell coverage out here. I don't like leaving the carcass. We might be able to haul it out with the quad.”

“Don't be long,” Duke admonished, and as he walked away Carrie felt, for the first time, that she'd just been spoken to by her boss.

Chapter Six

After little to no sleep the night before and a grueling day in the saddle, the last thing Carrie felt like doing was heading to the party at Crooked Valley. The hot bath had been so relaxing she'd nearly nodded off, saved only by the shrill ringing of her phone. Kailey had called to see if she wanted a ride, but Carrie had declined. She was tired and wanted to be able to leave when she was ready. At this rate, that would be right after the meal.

Now she was carrying a casserole and dragging her butt to the big house, the welcoming lights shining through the windows and the sound of laughter echoing through the air as the front door opened and closed. She stopped for a second and thought of Joe, and how much she'd missed him the past few days. He'd loved this event and looked forward to it every year.

But Joe was gone and Duke was here and life went on. She climbed the steps and opened the door, assaulted by laughter, music and the welcoming scent of a down-home potluck guaranteed to please.

Kailey bounced over. “It's about time you got here! We're going to start eating soon. What'd you bring anyway?” Unstoppable, Kailey lifted the foil on top of Carrie's dish and started laughing at the sight of the hash brown casserole. “Funeral potatoes? Seriously?”

Carrie scowled. “Hey. Everyone likes them and it was something I could put together ahead of time and heat up. I've been a bit busy, you know.”

Kailey frowned. “Jeez. Lighten up. Rough day?”

Carrie blew out a breath. “Sorry. I'm just tired. I didn't get much sleep out at the camp last night and the coyotes had me up early.”

She moved to the long banquet table set out in the dining room and put down her casserole with the others. Her stomach growled in response to the sight and smell of the delicious food—sliced ham, baked beans, short ribs in a Crock-Pot, simmered slowly so that the meat was sure to fall clean off the bone. There was shredded pork and buns, coleslaw, salads and enough pies to fill a baker's shelf.

Kailey put a hand on her shoulder. “Let out a breath and enjoy the evening. Tomorrow's a day off, right?”

Except tomorrow Carrie really wanted to get moving on solving their predator problem. Kailey knew as well as anyone that there really were no days off on a ranch. And because Carrie understood her friend was just trying to make her feel better, she put on a smile and did what Kailey said. She let out a long, restorative breath.

And she would have felt more relaxed had Duke not come through the dining room door at that precise moment.

He'd cleaned up all right. He wore new jeans and a soft navy shirt and his face still had that just-shaved look. His hair had grown out a bit in the few weeks since his arrival and she had been right—it was a glorious auburn. Worse, he looked up at her and she realized the deep navy of his shirt made his gray eyes even more striking.

He weaved his way through the people hovering inside the doorway and made his way over. “You made it,” he said loudly, grinning down at her, nodding at Kailey. “I wasn't sure you would.”

“I wouldn't miss it,” she replied.

“I'm sorry?” He leaned down a little more. Between the music and the people it was loud, but not that loud, at least Carrie didn't think so.

“I said, I wouldn't miss it. Joe loved this event.”

He nodded. “It's a bit loud and crazy.”

“Maybe you should start the eating. Full mouths are quiet mouths.” She laughed a little, her fatigue slipping away.

“How do I do that? Whistle? Shout?”

Carrie laughed and beckoned with a finger. “Come with me, I'll show you.”

She led him through to the pantry and retrieved an old iron triangle. “Your grandmother used this to round up the folks.” It was quieter in the pantry, and she lowered her voice to a normal volume. “You should do the honors. It's tradition.”

“Isn't it a little cliché?”

“Would you rather shout?”

He grinned. “Good point.”

She handed him the striker. “Go to it, cowboy.”

They headed back to the main area of the house and Carrie stood aside while Duke rang the bell. Conversation instantly dropped off and he chuckled. “Well, how about that?” he mused, looking over at her and smiling.

“Joe used to give a blessing,” she prompted. But Duke looked uncomfortable, so she leaned forward. “Maybe you could ask Quinn to do it.”

He nodded, reassured. “Hey, folks, welcome to Crooked Valley. I'm new to all these traditions, and we've got a lot of food to plow through here, so maybe Quinn would lead us in saying grace and we can get started?” He looked at Quinn hopefully.

“Sure,” Quinn agreed. His daughter, Amber, was in his arms looking cute in jeans, a soft pink sweater and blond pigtails. “What do you say, honey?”

Amber nodded. “The one Mommy taught me, okay, Daddy?”

Carrie's throat tightened. Quinn was doing such a good job as a single dad. Amber was the sweetest girl ever.

Together they said grace. “God is great, God is good, thank You, Father, for this food. Amen.”

There was a silence afterward, as if everyone was touched by the simple but sweet blessing by the motherless girl.

“Okay, now dig in!” Carrie stepped forward and broke the silence and conversation erupted again as a line started to form by the buffet table.

Duke took the triangle back to the pantry. “God, she's a sweet kid, isn't she?”

Carrie nodded. “She really is. It hasn't been easy on Quinn.”

“He said his wife died suddenly a little over a year ago.”

“She had some sort of heart defect that no one knew about. Got up to go running one morning and never came home. It was a real shock.”

Duke shook his head. “It never makes sense to me, you know? How some people can be in dangerous positions all the time and come out okay, and other people just go about their daily lives and poof. Game over.”

“Like you, Duke?”

His face took on a strange impression. “I suppose.”

“Well, none of us has the answers to the universe. But I know Kailey brought those short ribs and they are delicious. Let's go eat and solve the world's problems later.”

They joined the group and Carrie filled her plate with so much food she knew she couldn't possibly eat it all. The noise quieted to a dull roar punctuated with laughter and she sat and talked with the wives and girlfriends of the Crooked Valley and Triple B hands.

She noticed Duke setting up a big garbage can for the refuse and got up to help. The coffee was ready, so she poured it into a carafe and started another pot while people helped themselves to dessert. They crossed paths as she was going to the sink to wash spoons and spatulas.

“You don't have to do that,” he said. “I can get it later.”

“I don't suppose you're used to playing host,” she replied. “And you're doing this all alone after a busy day. I don't mind. I know where things go.”

It was quieter in the kitchen and they worked together for a while. Then the other women kicked it into gear as they tidied up the food and put covers back on their casseroles and Tupperware. Before long the dining room was spick-and-span, the folding banquet table stored away, and someone turned up the volume on the music. Quinn took Amber and went home. The noise level rose again, the front door kept opening and closing and Carrie felt her exhaustion come trickling back. Maybe it was time to go.

And then she saw Duke slip out the back door to the veranda. His face looked tight, as though he was annoyed.

What had happened?

She followed him out to the porch, carefully shutting the door behind her.

“Duke?”

He didn't respond, so she went up behind him and touched his shoulder. He spun around so fast he nearly knocked her over.

“Whoa,” she said, taking a step back. “I didn't mean to scare you. Didn't you hear me come outside?”

That strange look shadowed his face again and something twisted in Carrie's stomach. “What is it, Duke? Every now and again you get this look on your face. Pained and a little angry. Did I do something wrong?”

He turned away and rested his hands on the railing.

It was cold, and Carrie folded her arms around herself. Maybe she should just turn around and go back inside. She didn't need to get caught up in Duke's drama, whatever it was. She had enough of her own worries, both professional and personal.

So why was she still standing here?

“You're so stubborn,” she muttered, and Duke spun back around, frustration rippling off him as he faced her.

“I can't understand you when you mumble like that,” he snapped.

“I wasn't mumbling.”

“Well, you sure weren't being clear. If you have something to say, say it.”

She was tired and had come out here to help and he was biting her head off. “Fine,” she snapped back. “You're a stubborn...” She fought for the right word. “Ass! Clear enough for you?”

Her hands were on her hips and she had her chin up. Duke was glaring down at her, his eyes shooting sparks. And then suddenly they started laughing, down low. “Feel better?” he asked, softer now, and she nodded.

“I think I do, yes,” she replied. “Duke, what's going on with you? Half the time I get the feeling you don't realize I exist. You don't hear me or you pass by without acknowledging me. The other half of the time I feel like I'm the sole focus of your attention. It's weird.”

For a long moment his troubled eyes held hers. “I... Oh, this is stupid,” he said, turning away.

“You what?” She went forward and stood beside him at the railing. The fields beyond were dark, but stars sparkled in the inky depths of the sky. There were no streetlights out here, nothing to disturb the natural nighttime beyond the carriage lamps on either side of Duke's door, casting small circles of light that didn't reach far at all.

He didn't answer, but she got the sense he wanted to. Behind them, inside, the music thumped along and muffled voices drifted out now and then. Goose bumps popped up on Carrie's arms and she figured she might as well go back inside where it was warm when he finally spoke.

“I don't always hear so well,” he admitted.

Hearing? Whatever she'd thought he might answer, it wasn't that. “What do you mean?”

He didn't look at her, just stared out into the darkness. “Right now I can hear you just fine because you're standing on my left. If you were on my right, I might not have known you spoke. Or I would have heard you say something, but not been able to tell what it was.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I've lost almost all my hearing in my right ear.”

She turned her head and looked up at him. “How? I mean, when?”

“A few months ago. When I was wounded.”

Her stomach took a sharp dip. “Wait, you were wounded?”

He finally looked over at her. “Did you think I got bored of the army and just left?”

“I don't know. I didn't want to ask. But you didn't look...”

“Disabled?”

“You're not disabled,” she replied staunchly. “Look at you. You're in great shape, you're...”

“Hearing loss is a disability. There's no two ways around it, Carrie. It makes me unable to do what I love to do and that's why I left the army. If that's not a disability, what is?”

The bitterness was obvious in his voice. “You mean in combat, right? But surely there are other areas within the army...”

“Yeah, no, thanks,” he said bitterly. “There's no place for me in the sandbox. Or in combat in general.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Can you see me sitting at a desk or a warehouse somewhere?”

She couldn't. Even though he'd known little about ranching when he arrived and had only scraped the surface of what it entailed, she could see that Duke was happiest when he was outside, busy, vital. Anything else would be like caging him up.

She got it. She felt the same way about the ranch. What if something happened that she had to say goodbye not only to Crooked Valley but her occupation altogether? No wonder he hadn't smiled much when he got here. But he'd been smiling more lately....

“Why didn't you say anything earlier?”

“I can still hear out of my left ear, and I didn't want to answer questions.”

“Oh.” More like he didn't want to show any bit of weakness. Or really let anyone in. In her line of work she knew what it was to have pride, but she also knew a man had a special brand of pride that sometimes caused tunnel vision. “Sorry I asked.”

“That's not what I meant.” He faced her now. “I just didn't want all of Gibson to know.” He frowned. “The last thing I ever want to hear is ‘
poor Duke.'”

“You won't hear it from me.”

The air around them relaxed a little. “Thank you for that.”

“Hey, I've had my fair share of poor Carrie comments. I understand.”

Indeed she had. After her mother had taken ill, after her father died, after Logan had taken off only three weeks after their engagement...

Poor Carrie.

And then Duke had arrived and turned everything upside down. She frowned and looked up into his face. “So those times you went by me and didn't say anything—you really didn't hear me say hello?”

He shook his head.

“And the coyotes last night?”

“I was sleeping on my left side. Good ear in the pillow, can't hear anything out of my right.”

Something else twigged. “Is that why you stare at me when I talk to you?”

His cheeks colored a bit in the dim light. “Yeah. I seem to be able to hear things more clearly when I can watch people's lips move.”

As interesting as that little tidbit was, what Carrie felt most was disappointment. All the times she'd felt he was so attentive, so interested...he'd just been trying to understand her better. She wasn't so special after all.