Quinn (18 page)

“Do you mean with the ranch chores or in the house?”

“Both,” Phoebe said softly. “Quinn told us that you lost both a brother and a father within the past two years. I can’t imagine that you can handle that spread by yourself.”

“I couldn’t do it without good people to help. Wes
Mason is my foreman, and he’s been with us since I was a kid.”

“I know Wes,” Cole said. “He’s worked for us a time or two. A good man.”

Cheyenne nodded. “And Micah Horn. He started out as a wrangler with my dad when I was little, and now he’s my chief cook and bottle-washer. I don’t know what I’d do without Micah.”

Big Jim gave a nod of recognition. “Another good man. Micah used to give us a hand at roundup.”

“That’s what he told me,” Quinn put in.

“There was some kind of accident one winter that left him lame.” Big Jim glanced at Cheyenne for confirmation.

“A truck got stuck up in the hills. The rancher he was working for asked Micah and another wrangler to push, while he stayed behind the wheel. The truck swerved, Micah lost his footing, and the truck ended up crushing one of his legs. By the time they airlifted him to the hospital, the damage was pretty severe. He walks with a cane, and can drive some, but every year it gets harder for him to do much else. He even had to give up riding his favorite horse a couple of years ago.”

“He makes a damn fine chili,” Quinn muttered. Seeing Phoebe’s arch look, he added, “Not as good as yours, mind you. But it runs a close second.”

“You just want to make sure I don’t put arsenic in your soup tomorrow,” Phoebe said with a laugh.

“You bet. I’m no fool,” Quinn added.

That brought a round of laughter from all of them.

“That reminds me”—Cole was still laughing—“of the time you three decided you weren’t going to eat your sandwiches unless Phoebe cut off the crusts of your bread.”

Big Jim was quick to add, “That was right after a visit to town and lunch in that fancy restaurant.”

“A restaurant,” Cole said, “that lasted about a month before going broke. Whoever heard of cowboys wanting quiche for breakfast when they can have steak and potatoes for half the price at Flora’s Diner?”

Cheyenne, caught up in the laughter, turned to Phoebe. “So, did you cut off the crusts?”

“Are you kidding?” Phoebe shook her head. “Can you imagine spending the rest of my life throwing away all that bread?”

Quinn looked at his brothers for confirmation. “She conned us, as usual.”

“Yeah,” Josh joined in. “Phoebe told us that eating bread crusts made us smarter and stronger.”

“Well? Did I lie?” Phoebe swept a hand to indicate the three handsome men. “Those bread crusts produced giants. Though I’m not so sure about the brainpower,” she added with a straight face.

That had everyone laughing louder.

Phoebe turned to Cheyenne. “I bet your mother told you to eat your crusts so your hair would be curly.”

“And it would be if you didn’t use all that stuff to make it straight,” Quinn remarked.

Though the others laughed, Cheyenne was aware that they’d paused for a moment after his remark, as if to wonder just how he would know such a personal thing about her.

To make matters worse, he tugged on a strand of her hair and winked.

She felt the quick, sexual jolt all the way to her toes and hoped the others wouldn’t notice her face flaming.

As the conversation continued swirling around, Cheyenne studied the Conway family, teasing, scolding, arguing, and laughing together.

She’d better be careful. It would be very easy to let herself get so caught up by Quinn Conway and his big, noisy family that she might never want to go back to her own ranch.

Just when she’d begun to accept the emptiness, the loneliness, of life without her father and brother as her new reality, they had to come along to remind her of all that had been taken from her.

Beside her, Quinn glanced at her before asking, “Getting tired?”

“I… Yes.” She quickly covered her lapse. “I think I should probably go up to bed now.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

When she stood, he reached for her empty cup and placed it on the side table.

To everyone in the room she called, “I’ll say good night, now. Thank you again for your kind hospitality.”

As they said their good nights, Cheyenne climbed the stairs, aware of Quinn trailing behind her.

At her door she paused. “I didn’t want you to feel that you had to leave your family. You’ve only just returned. I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

“And a lifetime to do it.” His smile eased her worries. “But this is your first night in my home, and I’d like it to be a comfortable one.”

“I love your family. They’ve made me feel so welcome.”

“It’s a gift they have. All my life my friends have felt comfortable here.”

She couldn’t help teasing. “I’m sure you’ve brought a lot of women home unannounced through the years.”

He chuckled. “Good try.” He shot her that look that always reminded her of his wolves. Direct. Piercing. “Actually, you’re the first.”

“Well.” Her throat was suddenly dry as dust and she was forced to swallow. “Thank you. And good night.”

“Good night, Cheyenne.”

Without warning he dipped his head and brushed her lips with his. It was the merest touch of mouth to mouth, and yet she felt the heat shiver along her spine.

She drew back to stare up into his eyes, only to find him studying her carefully.

“This is a first. I’ve never kissed a woman good night in my own home before.”

“I seem to be all sorts of firsts for you.”

“Yeah.” His smile was quick and disarming. “Maybe I just wanted to show you that I could be a good kisser even without the effects of whiskey.” Seeing the color that rushed to her cheeks, he said, “Sorry. Is that subject taboo?”

Her chin came up defiantly. “The fact that I got drunk? Or the fact that I called you a good kisser?”

“You only got drunk because I forced it on you to deaden the pain of that shoulder.”

“As I recall, you only kissed me because I forced myself on you.”

“Is that what you think?” Again that smile, and this time it took deadly aim at her heart.

Without warning his arms were around her, drawing her close. His mouth covered hers in a kiss that had her fingers curling into the front of his shirt and holding on as though her life depended on it.

She hadn’t seen this coming.

Caught by surprise, she could only hold on as he kissed her with a thoroughness that had her fully engaged.

Without her giving thought to what she was doing, her fingers uncurled, the palms flattening against his chest before sliding slowly upward to encircle his neck.

His hands were in her hair, drawing her head back as he continued kissing her.

“Now we’re even,” he murmured against her lips. “You didn’t initiate this one. It was all my choice.”

Before she could respond his mouth was claiming hers again, taking the kiss deeper, until all she could taste was him.

The kiss spun on and on, filling her, then draining her. She felt as light as air, her bones as soft as melted wax. The thought flitted through her mind that if he chose to take her here and now, she wouldn’t have the will to resist.

When at last he lifted his head, she continued holding on to him, afraid that if she let go she would surely slide boneless to the floor.

“That’s how I wanted to kiss you that first time. But I wanted you awake, alert, and able to give your full consent.”

As she sucked air into her starving lungs, he lifted a hand to her cheek.

He opened the door and waited until she’d walked past him. “Welcome to my home.”

He paused, with his hand on the doorknob. “If you need anything in the night, my room is next door.”

“I’m sure I won’t come calling.”

His smile widened. “I can always hope.”

He stepped back and pulled the door closed.

She stood very still, listening to his footsteps recede.

She crossed the room and dropped down on the edge of the mattress, her mind in turmoil.

What had just happened here? That unexpected kiss changed everything.

She’d come here to be comfortable while her house was repaired.

Comfortable?
The word had her laughing aloud. That wasn’t a word she would use to describe Quinn Conway. The man made her extremely uncomfortable.

On the one hand, she loved being with him. In these few days that they’d been together, she’d laughed more than she had in a year. She really liked his family. They were warm and funny and loud and informal, and she felt an almost instant acceptance by all of them.

On the other hand, things were moving way too quickly. Too much had happened in her life that had been beyond her control. The loss of her mother, brother, and then father would be enough to have any sane person reeling. Added to that, within days she’d had to deal with a dislocated shoulder and a nearly deadly fire.

She wanted, needed, the world to slow down. She wasn’t ready for any more complications in her life.

And Quinn Conway was definitely proving to be a complication. An interesting, challenging, and thoroughly head-spinning complication.

Q
uinn walked into the kitchen and poured a mug of coffee.

Ela was baking corn bread. Phoebe was busy pouring orange juice into glasses she’d arranged on a tray atop the counter.

“ ’Morning,” he called to both of them.

Ela merely nodded a greeting as she opened the oven to check her corn bread.

“Good morning, Quinn.” Phoebe set aside the empty pitcher and began removing eggs from a carton. “You’re up earlier than usual.”

“Am I?” He leaned a hip against the counter and watched as she deftly cracked one egg after another until she had more than a dozen in the bowl. “I didn’t look at a clock. Just figured if I was awake, it was time to get moving.”

Phoebe smiled. “That’s what I tell myself every morning.”

“Have you ever overslept?”

She shrugged. “Not that I recall. It’s just not in my nature to be lazy.”

An understatement, he thought, since he’d never seen her when she wasn’t busy. Not only did she manage dozens of chores each day, but she had always made time for all of them through the years, listening to their troubles, easing them through the various stages of their lives. And all without a hint of impatience.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” He glanced at the sky outside the window. “Looks like the sun might shine.”

“About time.” She added milk to the egg mixture. “I’m so ready for spring.”

He lingered, enjoying the coffee and the wonderful scents of morning, and the company of these two women, who were so different in looks and temperament. Phoebe the eternal optimist and Ela terse and brutally frank.

“I like your Cheyenne.”

Though Phoebe said it simply, he looked over and found her staring at him.

He shot her a grin. “I knew you would.”

“Hearing about her personal losses, and the accidents that have befallen her, I expected a wounded bird. Instead, she strikes me as very strong.”

“Yeah.”

“Like her mother.” Ela began cutting squares of corn bread and placing them in a linen-lined basket.

Quinn looked over. “You made Cheyenne really happy by talking about things you remembered about her mother.”

The old woman smiled. “Those who lose their parents at a young age have a need to keep them alive in their minds.”

Quinn digested this as he drained his coffee and placed the mug in the dishwasher. Though her words were always simply spoken, there was a depth of soul to them. This time, he had the feeling that she was directing them at him as much as at Cheyenne.

“Got some chores to see to before breakfast,” he muttered. “Guess I’ll get to them.”