Picking Up Cowboys (2 page)

Chapter two

Mountain magic, it reached into his body and wound itself around his soul.  The pick-up bounced over the cattle trench as they passed under a weathered pine banner announcing their entrance to Aspen Trails.              He sucked in great gulps of air as though he hadn’t really breathed since leaving this place.

Pine.  A raw ache worked itself into his throat and he had to swallow several times to rid himself of it.  Funny how one simple scent could bring back so many bitter-sweet memories. 

“How long will you be staying?”

Gage felt Catherine’s gaze on him and forced his expression to remain neutral. 
Forever
.  He couldn’t reveal that to her though.  Not just yet.  “I’m just looking at all my options.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak and then clamped it shut again.  A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth before he could stop it.  It was almost as if the woman had two distinct sides to her personality.  One cautious and serious, the other fun-loving and adventurous.

He shifted slightly in the seat so he could observe her.  A dull flush rose up her neck and into her cheeks.  Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel, her knuckles showing white.  Good.  He wanted to unnerve her, throw her off center.  It was about time the Claibornes had a taste of their own manipulation.

The truck rattled to a stop and Gage glanced up. The white, two-story farmhouse needed paint.  White slivers stuck out in spots and bare wood shone through in others.  The roof bowed in the middle and it was obvious the gutters and downspouts all needed replaced.  Protective anger rose in him.  The house had once been almost majestic in its country-warm simplicity.  Now it looked like a forsaken shack.

“We need to do a few renovations.”  Her eyes were washed with embarrassment. 

Gage swallowed his first response, which would have been a sound tongue-lashing for the disrepair of the place.  He forced a calmness into his voice he wasn’t feeling. 

“As long as the heat works.”               

“Actually, you’ll be staying in one of the guest cabins.”  She motioned to the cluster of wood-beamed structures, situated to gain best advantage of the breathtaking view of the mountains.

We’ll see about that.
  “I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on staying in the main house.”

Panic darkened her pale eyes.  “You can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Well--” She sputtered and stopped.

“Do you even have the guest cabins made up at this time of year?”

“No, but--”

“And what happens if this storm continues?  I’ll be stuck in one of those claustrophobic huts with no food.”

Catherine glared at him and he suspected she would have loved to stomp on his foot if he’d been in range.  But she would have to climb over the steering wheel and into his lap to do it.  Gage felt a stirring at the thought of her in his lap.

He reined it in.  Mustang Claiborne’s daughter was the last person he wanted to get involved with.  But she sure wasn’t going to keep him out of his own home.

***

Catherine tried to lasso another solution from her fogged brain and came up short on rope.  Leave it to her to try to pick up a hitch hiker and then not know what to do with him.  What would the new Catherine do?  Racy thoughts flitted through her mind.  In those tight jeans, or rather out of them, she could think of lots of interesting ways to pass a blizzard.

Heat crept into her cheeks and she raised her hands to try to cool them.  What was wrong with her?  She never had thoughts like this.  But then, that had been the always-do-what’s-expected-of-you Catherine.

She injected casualness into her voice, telling herself it was for her own good. “Why not?” 

Surprise slackened the hitchhiking cowboy’s jaw.  Catherine laughed and swung out of the truck.  Without a backward glance, she went into the house.  He could follow if he wanted.  Catherine made a point to carelessly sling her coat, hat and gloves onto the high-backed arm chair in the entryway.  Usually, she would carefully hang each piece up. 

The oak grandfather clock with a moon and stars carved into the base chimed twelve strokes.  Lunchtime. Catherine headed for the kitchen.  Normally, she would eat soup and salad.  Today, to celebrate her re-birth into a woman who took risks, she would have chocolate for lunch.

She heard the echo of the front door shutting.  So, he’d decided to join her.  Sliding the step stool over to the pantry, she climbed on top and stood on tiptoe.  The tin she was searching for was on the uppermost shelf, in the darkest corner.  Her fingers met the cool metal and she nudged it out.

“What are you doing?”  The cowboy was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over broad chest.

“Making hot cocoa. Want some?”

He shrugged and sauntered to the table, hooked his booted toe around the leg of a chair, pulled it out and lowered himself into it.

Catherine watched with interest.  How could he help but swagger in jeans so tight?  Her eyes dropped to where the material stretched dangerously over his upper thighs. 

“They’re called Levi’s.  Been around for years.”

His green eyes twinkled with sensual amusement.  Catherine felt her face grow warm again and hurried to get the cocoa on before he noticed.

“What do your guests do for lunch around here?”

“Normally, meals are provided, but we’re not really in season.  I’m having chocolate for lunch.  You’re welcome to join me.”  She smiled brightly.

“Chocolate?” 

“Yes.  Hot cocoa.  Oreos.  Rocky Road ice cream.  And a Hershey’s bar.”

“What kind of lunch is that?”

“A celebration.”

His expression grew wistful. “Wouldn’t meat and potatoes do just as well?”

Catherine shook her head.  “Nope.  Only chocolate can celebrate a new life.”

***

Gage almost choked.  A new life?  Catherine was pregnant?  He eyed her slender figure.  How far along could she possibly be?  And shouldn’t she be eating something better than chocolate?  Didn’t babies need folic acid or some such thing? 

The house was in pretty bad shape. Maybe she couldn’t afford to eat right. But then wasn’t chocolate expensive?  Perhaps she was more like her father then even he had suspected.  She only cared for herself, even to the point of not caring how her actions might affect her unborn child.

Why did that thought bring a sting of disappointment with it?  No, it wasn’t disappointment.  How could you be disappointed in someone you expected only the worst out of?  It was sympathy for the baby. That’s what it was.

Reaching into the freezer, Catherine pulled out a pint of gourmet ice cream.  Gage gritted his teeth.  It was none of his business if she didn’t take care of herself.  It wasn’t his baby.

“Why don’t we have milk instead of ice cream?”  Gage wanted to slap his hand over his mouth.  Despite his best intentions to not care about what she did, he seemed incapable of keeping his thoughts to himself.

She wrinkled her pert nose.  “Milk instead of ice cream?  Who was your mother? Nancy Nutrition?”

The mention of his mother brought him quickly back to reality.  Gage felt the thick shield he’d built for his heart raise into battle position.  Catherine flipped off the burner on the stove and poured the heated cocoa into a large coffee mug.

“Never mind.”  He put his hands behind his head and leaned back, trying to get comfortable.

Gage heard the rustle of soft denim as she moved closer.  The scent of wildflowers grew more prominent along with an underlying aroma of curiosity and vividness.  Her hand was so soft on his forearm when she touched him he almost, almost thought it felt comforting.  It would have, if he hadn’t know her better.  Known the evil manipulator who lay beneath the beautiful facade.  She’d been raised by the best manipulator in the state, why wouldn’t she be a master at manipulation as well?

“I can fix you something else.” 

Gage opened his eyes to see her hovering over him like some sort of pseudo-angel.  He stood up and moved to the stove...more to get away from the unwanted stirrings she created in him than anything.

“I can cook my own food.”  She smiled and two faint dimples appeared on either side of her mouth.

“Why don’t I cook you an omelet?”  He offered.  Again, before he could stop himself. Okay, but it wasn’t for her, it was for an innocent, unborn child.  He turned to the refrigerator and grabbed the carton of eggs.

“No thanks.  I’ll just stick with the chocolate.  Besides, I need the magnesium from it.”  Catherine handed him a bowl and fork.

“Magnesium?”  Gage wondered what magnesium did for the baby.

“It helps my brain create serotonin and releases endorphins.  The feel good hormone.”

Gage laughed.  Endorphins.  The woman could rationalize wearing a bathing suit outside in this blizzard.  But that was the talent of the Claibornes.  They had magic tongues.  The thought made him break the eggs a little more firmly against the side of the bowl than he might otherwise have.  He had to stop and pick out a few pieces of brown shell.

“Okay, I’ll bite.  Why do you need endorphins?”  He started folding the yolks and whites of the eggs together.

“It seems I have a business partner.”  Catherine picked up the mug of cocoa and blew into the rising steam.

Gage’s hand stopped beating the eggs.  He should tell her now.  Let her know who he was.  Just because she and her father played dirty didn’t mean he had to.  Lying went against everything he stood for and was everything he despised.  But before he could tell her, she was speaking.  Her soft voice lulled him like the gentle jingle of sleigh bells.  She set the cocoa back down; apparently deciding it was too hot to drink.

“My father left half of this ranch to a man I have never met.  And I’m not quite sure what to do about it.”  She leaned her elbows on the white, Formica counter and watched him add salt, pepper, cheese and green peppers to the eggs.

“What can you do about it?  If the ranch is rightfully his...”

Catherine pushed herself up and slammed both palms down on the counter.  “That’s just it.  It’s not rightfully his!  It’s mine.”

Gage felt his lips curl back in disgust.  Like father like daughter.  “Apparently your father felt differently.”

“Apparently my father was a drunken moron who never worked an honest day in his life.”  Catherine’s hands came up and covered her mouth and she moaned as though in pain.

Gage dropped the fork and reached out his arms almost instinctively, but she backed away, still holding her hands over her mouth and shaking her head in denial.

After a couple of minutes, she lowered her hands, and whispered, “I didn’t mean that.  I should never have said it.”

The change in her was extraordinary.  She’d gone from lively curiosity to defeated resignation.  Is this what the thought of her father did to her?

“I won’t let some flunky friend of my father’s have half this ranch.”  Her chin came up and her eyes sparkled.  “No matter what I have to do to prevent it.”

“Typical,” Gage muttered.

“What?”  Her pale eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Just like your father, you think you can take what you want and anyone who gets hurt can just deal with it.”

Catherine held her lips so tight together a white ring etched around her mouth.  “What do you know of my father?”

Gage cursed himself.  He should have kept his mouth shut.  “Nothing.  I’m just guessing from what you’ve said.”

Gage wouldn’t have thought it possible but her face blanched an even paler shade.  A heartbeat later, her cheeks flushed a dull red and her hands rested as fists on her hips.

“My father was a good man who had a tendency to drink a little too much.”  Her eyes dared him to contradict her.  “The real question here is: Just who are you?”

“Gage Maddock.”  He dipped his head out of courteous habit and lifted her hand, holding it gently in his.  She didn’t relax her fist and the backside of her hand was icy.             

She jerked out of his grip, rubbing her palm up and down the material on her hip as though to remove the feel of him.  Gage’s eyes dropped to where the dark blue fabric was stretched snugly over slender hips.  He closed his eyes.  He was not attracted to Catherine Claiborne.  Okay, he was attracted.  But that was as far as it would go.

“You are the man who stole half my ranch.”  She raised the hand now and pointed an accusing finger at his chest.

“
I
stole it?”  Gage laughed deep in his throat as he slid the fluffy omelet onto a plate.  “Last I recall a will was legal and binding.”

Gage shrugged, watching her eyes glaze over with intense emotion, wondering what it would feel like to have those beautiful blue eyes glaze over with a different kind of emotion.

“I want to know how you swindled my father into leaving you half of this ranch.”  Catherine watched him expectantly, her arms now crossed over her chest, which was heaving from her rapid breaths.