Rocky Mountain Romance (Six Pack Ranch) (7 page)

Was he?

She cleared her throat and went for broke. “Let me have them. I’m all ears.”

Steve smoothed the page on the table before him. She was surprised to see there were actual notes on the page. He hadn’t simply written a few names—he had more to go along with them.

As he spoke she was drawn back to staring at his strong lips. “I thought you’d like this presented in the most logical way possible, so I’ve listed them according to age first off. Unless you have some specific requirements you want me to follow. You know, parameters and that sort of thing.”

“Parameters?” Melody laughed “I draw the line at no one younger than twenty-one and no one older than forty.”

Steve shook his head sadly. He brought out a pen and clicked it open. “That knocks one candidate off the list right then and there.”

He drew a bold line through the first name on the page.

She leaned forward, curious to see who was listed. “You had someone older than forty you thought I should date?”

“Well, you said you wanted non-vanilla, and while people in these parts are pretty open about talking about their breeding routines for cattle and sheep, personal preferences in the bedroom only get talked about when someone ties one on a little too hard.” Steve shrugged. “It took a bit of work to come up with these possibilities.”

Melody somehow dragged her expression back to serious. She hoped. “I’m sorry for interrupting. You’ve obviously given this lots of thought. Please, go on.”

Steve nodded briskly. “Now then, in terms of kink, if I hit something that is a hard no for you, I want you—”

She lifted a hand in the air and interrupted him. “Holy moly, Steve, I’m not looking for someone I have to call Master.”
Hard no.
She knew what he meant because of some of her recent reading, but they weren’t words she’d ever expected
him
to say. “Did you go down to the library and ask for the bright yellow copy of the
Dummies Guide to Kink
?”

For an instant his face flushed with embarrassment. Melody was enchanted. This was a side of Steve she’d rarely met, and his earnestness touched something inside her the right way.

“I just want you to be happy.”

She looked into his blue-grey eyes, lost for a moment in the intensity of his gaze. As if she were the only thing that mattered at this moment. As if she were the only thing in the entire world. Her heart rate accelerated under his attention, and she caught herself hoping for things she really shouldn’t hope for.

Then he broke eye contact and leaned back in his chair, paper held loosely in one hand. He began as if they hadn’t nearly eye-fucked each other into sweaty comas. “Leon Treil is living out toward Drayton Valley. He’s got a decent head on his shoulders.” Steve stumbled for a moment before he continued. “And word is his last girlfriend left him because he insisted they dress up every time they had sex.”

Melody couldn’t stand it. “I’m going to grab some drinks, okay?” She twirled away before he could answer, opening the fridge to hide her smile. “Beer? Pop?”

“Coke, please.” He cleared his throat. “This isn’t making you uncomfortable is it?”

“Of course not!” she lied like an ace.

“I mean, I can go through it quicker if you have something else you need to do tonight.”

She grabbed drinks, returning to the table once she’d regained control over the urge to giggle. She gave Steve her most innocent look. “No, this is fascinating. Please, go on.”

“You want me to leave him on the list, or cross him off?”

Melody pretended to think as she opened her bottle of Coke and watched Steve do the same, his strong hands twisting the cap free before he lifted the bottle. She stared as his lips closed over the top, and he drank deeply, his throat moving in smooth, rhythmic pulses. He pulled the bottle away and licked his lips, and suddenly the room was unbearably hot all over again.

She blinked rapidly to remember what the question was. “How about you tell me everybody you’ve got on the list, and I’ll make a decision at the end.”

Steve nodded. “All right, then, next up is Davis Grey.”

“Davis? I heard he was dead.”

Steve paused then shook his head. “Oh. You’re thinking of Grampa Davis Grey—he passed away in the spring. Davis Junior is doing just fine, and Mark Orson down at the hardware store let it slip one time Junior goes through more udder cream than can be easily accounted for.”

Udder cream. “What do you think he’s up to?”

“Lubing something up,” Steve said, not a speck of amusement on his face as if this were a simple conversation about shoeing a horse or tagging cows. “Protecting against chafing shows consideration and forethought.”

They weren’t sitting here discussing
udder cream
. She was dreaming the entire thing. “Kinky candidate number three?”

“Miles Tate.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Melody lifted her chin off the ground. “That’s the pastor’s son.”

“Hey, you wanted a list, and he’s over twenty-one, and that boy’s freaky according to every rumour I’ve heard.”

“No. Way.”

“What people do in private is their own business—as long as they’re not hurting anyone,” Steve pointed out.

“I agree. I just meant that he’s a baby,” Melody insisted, before realizing all over the ridiculousness of the entire conversation. “You’re telling me you think I should date one of these men.”

Steve folded the paper, creasing the edge. Her gaze was drawn to his strong fingers and the memories of the pleasure she’d received at his hands.

“No, I think the best candidate for you isn’t on this list.” He shook the paper in the air before putting it back in his pocket.

Melody paused then went for it. “Who is it?”

Steve caught her fingers in his. “I know I apologized once, but I’ll do it again, and dammit, I’ll do it until it sinks in and you forgive me. I was a bastard. A thoughtless uncaring fool, but I’ve changed, and I think you and I together could be a good thing, Melody. I can be the man you need me to be.”

The temptation was there.

So were the memories of the frustrations she’d experienced.

“Steve, you don’t need to apologize anymore. Maybe you’re right—you could probably step up to the plate and rock my world in all sorts of new ways. You’re a smart man, and you’re talented in the sack.”

What she’d expected was to see him glow at the praise, but he didn’t budge. All the compliments she was giving him, and he still looked as if she hadn’t said the right thing yet.

She went on. “But I need a man not
just
in the bedroom. I need somebody who respects me all the time. While I’m at work, and while I’m at play.” How much should she admit? Melody glanced up to find he was watching intently, and the confession spilled out. “I’m scared. Do I dare take another chance on you?”

Steve tilted his head in response. “And there’s nothing I can
say
to prove that I’ve changed. You have to take a chance.”

Melody stared at where the ceiling met the wall, small signs visible there of numerous paint jobs covering previous layers as each new occupant of the house came in and made the place their own.

She’d simply moved in because the house wasn’t that important to her. What
was
important were people, and damn if the man in front of her didn’t make her want to give him another chance.

His fingers tightened around hers, just enough that she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Melody, I respect the hell out of you. You’re good at what you do, and when you left last September, I kicked my own ass for being a shit and screwing up.”

It was her turn to pause while she dealt with the images rushing her brain. The good memories mixed with the frustrations until there was no way she knew how to answer him.

And that was an answer in itself.

Melody turned her hand in his and returned the squeeze before withdrawing her fingers. “Steve, I need to think on it. I’m not gonna kick you out and say no, but I need more time.”

That expression in his eyes changed. The hope she’d expected to see earlier when she’d complimented his sexual prowess,
now
that hope was there, and a flutter began deep inside her belly.

Steve eased his chair back and rose to his feet. “I have no objections to that. I want you to be sure.” He flashed her that smile that always made her knees weak. “And trust me, sweetheart. I can make sure we aren’t too vanilla this time around.”

Somehow she believed he meant every word.

 Chapter Five

One blasted emergency after another filled his days, but in a way, Steve welcomed the distractions. He’d temporarily placed control back in Melody’s hands—even though from her expression as they’d spoken the other night, he was pretty sure she’d come around to telling him yes.

This part sucked. The waiting. But no matter how much he itched to drive up to her door and demand she come to a decision, running off half-cocked was not the way to make anything lasting happen.

Damn if he didn’t want to anyway.

To distract himself from his ever-growing impatience, Steve turned his attention to the things he could control. He fixed the tractor engines that had all decided to seize at the same time. He dealt with the animal shelters in the far pastures that had somehow overnight developed dangerous tilts. He and Trevor put in three backbreaking days hauling new timbers to replace rotting vertical posts, the grazing cattle glancing at them off and on as if they were an amusing dinner show.

In spite of his frustrations, as he examined the tasks he’d completed, the change in his working habits and outlook stiffened his resolve. He would convince Melody they belonged together. He would show her that Rocky was a good place for them both.

And the
too vanilla
comment?

Not fucking likely…

The solitude of late-night chores had its place in knocking the edge off his bad attitude before, and he’d grown to appreciate the quiet moments to think.

He parked outside the barn, taking his time to pause at the edge of the field, one boot up on the bottom rung of the fence as he leaned on the top rail. His dog, Prince, roamed by his feet, the well-trained animal checking the new scents placed since the last time they’d walked this path.

The sun had already set behind the mountains, but the sky was filled with streaks of orange-lit clouds dotted with darker sections against the pale-blue summer sky. The same colour as Melody’s eyes—and memories swept in like a gust of wind, rustling through his mind and stirring up desire.

Come hell or high water, by this weekend he’d find a way to get together with her.

The sound of crickets and the occasional dove cooing were all that broke the silence as he paced forward to complete his chores.

“Prince, stay.”

The dog shuffled off to the side of the barn and found a place to wait.

Walking through the doors of the barn was like entering a chapel. The familiar peaceful setting gave him a chance to refocus and put aside his plans for a moment.

Only he wasn’t alone. His father stood in the corner, back toward him. Both his hands were pressed to the worktable surface, his back swayed, head hanging low, as if he was barely keeping himself vertical.

Damn
. “You okay?” Steve strode forward to join Randy at the bench.

His father jerked in surprise before looking away. “Of course.”

Steve hadn’t expected any other response. His dad could have both legs cut off and been bleeding out, and he still wouldn’t admit anything was wrong.

Steve examined him closely. The older man’s face looked pale, a sheen of sweat covering his brow. “Like hell you’re okay.”

His father tapped his fist against his chest, his face twisting into a grimace. “Just a little indigestion.”

Oh, great, even better. Steve put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Is that not one of the signs of a heart attack?”

Randy turned away, leaning on the workbench. He spit to one side before folding his arms and looking disgruntled. “I’m fine—well, at least, I know I’m not having a heart attack. It’s this damn heartburn, and yes, it’s only heartburn—I got checked at the doctor last week when I went to town.”

Steve eyed his father. The man’s solid frame showed little sign of softening after years of heavy labour. Maybe he was thicker around the middle, his hair now shot with grey, but Randy seemed the same no-nonsense, get-it-done man who’d guided his family over the years without ever raising his voice.

It was hard to see him as something other than indestructible.

“How come this is the first time I’ve heard of this?” Steve asked.

Randy shrugged his broad shoulders. “Because it’s nothing,” he insisted before making another face. “Except I need to stop sneaking third helpings like your mother warned me.”

“Ha.”

His father lifted a finger in warning. “Don’t you tell her that I’m under the weather tonight—she’d just give me hell and then refuse to serve bacon for a month.”

“It is one of the four major food groups,” Steve teased, moving into position to echo his father’s body language as the man leaned on the workbench with his arms across his chest.

Steve stared into space, picking his words carefully. “Sucks to have to watch what you’re eating, but it sucks more to feel like hell.”

“God, sometimes it feels like something’s trying to crawl out of my body,” his father confessed.

Steve made a sympathetic noise. “You got anything to take for it?”

“Yeah.” Disgust was clear in his voice. “Tastes like getting a mouthful on a windy day when we’re spreading fertilizer.”

Steve laughed. “Well, at least it’s not some sugary sweet pink stuff that makes your tongue change colour.”

“There is that,” Randy agreed. He glanced up quickly. “Don’t tell your mother,” he warned again. “I swear she gets a kick out of making me take a dose.”

It took a lot to keep from laughing. Instead, Steve spoke cautiously, trying to be nonchalant. “In the meantime, let me know if I need to take over any extra duties.”

Randy made a rude noise before reluctantly nodding his head. “If I have to. I just hate to be slowing down.”