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“Are you gay?”
He released a small laugh. “Nope.”
For a moment she couldn’t remember what they’d just been talking about. All she could think of was that low, slightly husky and very sexy sound that had escaped him. She turned and grabbed her corn chips off the nightstand and then faced him once again.
“Why do you date so many men?” he asked.
She looked at him in surprise. “I’m twenty-nine years old, I’m single and I’m looking for the toad who will become my Prince Charming. So far, they’ve all just been common toads.”
“Maybe your standards are too high,” he replied. Once again he wasn’t looking at her but rather peering someplace over her head.
“Probably,” she agreed easily. “But why would I lower my standards as to who I want to spend the rest of my life with? I want a man who loves me desperately, somebody who will always have my back no matter what. I’ve never, ever had anyone like that in my entire life.”
“What about your family?”
She masked that particular pain with a small laugh. “My mother died when I was ten. A month after her death, my older brother ran away and never came back. My father pretty much hates my existence and only keeps me around so I can cook and clean for him.”
Afraid that she had sounded too harsh about her father, she continued, “Dad hurt his back nine years ago and had to go on disability, and he never got over my mother’s death. He needs my help and I’m glad to do it. All I want is to be good enough that he’ll be proud of me and love me.”
Jeez, what was she doing baring her soul to him? She really didn’t know him at all. She grabbed a chip from her bag, not wanting to think about how alone she’d felt for most of her life.
“You never heard from your brother again?” he asked.
She shook her head. “When Graham left he never looked back. I think maybe it helped break my father’s heart even more and that’s what made him so hard and bitter. So, what about you? What’s your family story?” She didn’t want to think about her brother or her father anymore. It hurt too much.
He stared up at the ceiling, as if contemplating whether to share anything with her or not. “You’ve probably heard that all of us cowboys at the Holiday Ranch were throwaway kids. Cass Holiday took us in when we were all in our early teens.”
“Everyone in town has heard the story,” she replied.
“I was fourteen when my father threw me out of the house because he caught me smoking a cigarette. It was almost a relief to be forced to leave. Like you, I lost my mama when I was young. My father was a brutal man with an uncontrollable rage inside him and that rage was usually focused on me.”
He turned to look at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I was fairly lucky. I’d only been out on the streets about a month when Francine Rogers, a social worker who was friends with Cass, offered me the chance to work on a ranch and brought me to Cass.”
“I didn’t know Cass well before she died, although I’ve heard all kinds of wild stories about her.”
His lips curled up in a beautiful smile that stole her breath away. “She was quite a character...tough as nails, yet she made all of us feel valued and wanted. Most of us probably would have died on the streets if not for her.”
“It’s so nice she gave you all a second chance.”
“She gave us hope and while we were all a little worried when Cassie, her niece, took over, everything has been different, but fine.”
Mandy released a small sigh. “I’m hoping someday I can get to a really good place with my father.”
Brody’s smile disappeared. “And what if that doesn’t happen?” he asked.
“Then I’ll just have to be content with the knowledge that I did everything I could for him,” she said with more assurance than she felt. “See?” she added with a wide grin. “We’re getting along just fine. We have a lot in common.”
He quirked a dark eyebrow upward. “Bad childhoods don’t necessarily make us good friend material.”
She wasn’t sure why it was so important to her, but she wanted him to come away from this night seeing her as so much more than her crummy reputation.
“Do you like pizza?” she asked.
“Who doesn’t?” he replied easily.
“What about Mexican food?”
“There isn’t much I don’t like to eat,” he said.
“That’s great. You like to eat and I love to cook. That’s something else that makes us potential friend material.”
For the next couple of hours they talked about all kinds of topics. They both enjoyed country and western music and disliked hard rock. Autumn was her favorite season and he liked spring the best. The more time that passed with light conversation, the more they relaxed with each other.
She told him about her dream to someday open a little restaurant of her own, and he talked about his life and work on the ranch. But she knew her attraction to him would go nowhere. He didn’t seem to be drawn to her in that way at all.
They had just finished eating all their goodies when the conversation returned to her reputation.
“You didn’t go to Bitterroot High School,” she said.
“No, Cass decided it was best to homeschool all of us.”
“You were lucky. It was a seething pool of gossip and drama, and that’s when my bad reputation started. I was dating Richard Herridge when we were both juniors. He was on the football team and real popular.”
“He works on the Humes ranch now,” Brody said, his scowl back.
“He’s just another creep like all the rest of the men who work for Humes,” she replied. The Holiday Ranch hands and the Humes men didn’t get along. The entire town knew about the ongoing feud between the neighboring ranches.
“Anyway, we’d been dating for about a month and he started pressuring me to have sex with him. I finally said it wasn’t going to happen and I broke up with him. The next morning everyone at school was talking about how I had sex with him, and then he broke up with me because he’d gotten what he wanted. And that’s when it all began.”
She couldn’t begin to speak of the depth of the anguish that had chased her through the last of her high school years. Girls scorned her and lots of the boys dated her and then lied about having sex with her.
Even now there were women who were reluctant to have anything to do with her, but her dance card was always filled. She’d never figured out a way to change people’s perception of her, and she’d finally stopped trying long ago.
“You haven’t exactly gone out of your way to try to change people’s view of you,” Brody said.
“What’s the point? People expect provocative behavior from me and so that’s what I give them. I’m kind of like a cow that has been branded, and once that brand is done there’s no way to get rid of it.”
She shrugged and then grabbed at the bedspread before it could slip downward. “Every town needs a bad girl and I guess I play that role in Bitterroot.”
He gazed at her for a long moment and then released a deep sigh. “It’s getting late. I suggest we both get some sleep. Hopefully the tow trucks will be out here early in the morning.”
“My clothes should be dry by now.” She got up from the bed, careful to keep the bedspread in place, and grabbed her clothing from the heater vent. “I’ll be right back.”
It took her only minutes in the bathroom to redress in the now warm and dry Santa costume. When she returned to the room, together they put the bedspread back on. Then he turned out the light and they got into bed. She snuggled under the covers and he remained on top.
Even in the dark she was acutely aware of him so close to her, close enough that she could swear she heard the steady beat of his heart. It was slightly thrilling even though she knew it shouldn’t be so.
“Brody?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for being so nice to me tonight.”
“Go to sleep, Mandy.”
“Okay.” She turned over and tried not to think about how much she wished that he would pull her into his arms, hold her for just a little while against his broad chest until she drifted off to happy dreams.
But if they walked out of here tomorrow morning and could be real friends, she’d be happy with that...because she suspected she’d have to be.
* * *
Something tickled at his nose. Something...fuzzy. No...furry. Brody opened his eyes to early morning light seeping in around the edges of the blue draperies at the window. Mandy’s fur collar was right under his nose and he was spooned around the back of her as if he belonged there.
Move, a small inner voice urged him, but he ignored it. For just a brief moment he remained perfectly still, enjoying the sensation of a warm, shapely female in his arms. It was a rare moment for him as it had been a very long time since he’d been in a position to hold a woman.
Amanda Wright was nothing like he had expected her to be. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but she’d been far more likeable and with a soft vulnerability that had surprised him. She was more like a beautiful playful puppy dog than a femme fatale.
Was her reputation overblown? Possibly. It was easy to be labeled in a small town, although she’d admitted she could be provocative in keeping with her role as the bad girl.
It had been obvious she loved her father and longed for a better relationship with him. A tight ball of tension filled his chest as he thought of his own father.
It had been Cass who had tried to make him understand that his father’s brutality and inability to love was his fault and not Brody’s. Still, Brody knew himself to be dangerous damaged goods, and that was why he would never marry or have children. He was a bad risk for any woman.
A distant growl of a snowblower replaced the silence of the room. He quickly rolled away from Mandy and stood, grateful that she didn’t awaken.
The last thing he wanted her to know was that in sleep he had cuddled with her. It had been bad enough last night when they’d talked and he’d tried so hard to keep his gaze away from her creamy naked shoulders and the spill of her long, dark, slightly wavy hair. He’d been on a slow burn for most of the night.
He raked a hand through his hair and walked over to the window. Moving one of the heavy blue curtains aside just a bit, he peered out.
The sun shone bright on the snow that had fallen the night before. There was less snow than he’d anticipated. Still, the ground was covered by about three to four inches of the white stuff.
Fred Ferguson manned the snowblower and was in the process of clearing off the walkways. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before Larry Jerrod called to say his team was on their way to pull Mandy and him out of the ditch.
In the meantime there was a coffee machine next to the sink and he definitely needed a jolt of caffeine to clear his head. Within minutes the scent of the fresh brew filled the room.
He’d just poured himself a cup and sat in the spindly chair near the window when Mandy stirred. She stretched like a contented kitten and then offered him a sleepy smile. “We survived,” she said, her voice slightly husky.
“We did,” he agreed. He stood and opened the curtains, hoping to get her out of the bed. She was far too much of a temptation in the bed, wearing that damned Santa costume that showcased her full breasts, small waist and long, shapely legs.
He heard the rustle of the sheets, and when he turned back around she was up and at the sink, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Hell, she was a temptation out of bed, as well.
She walked over and joined him at the window. “It looks a lot better out there this morning than it did last night.”
“I’m hoping it won’t be long before we can get on our way.”
“I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to the ranch. Thank goodness today is my day off at the café so all I have to do is get home.” A tiny frown danced across her forehead. “I guess I should probably call my dad.”
She set her cup down, went over to the nightstand and dug in her purse. She retrieved her cell phone and then sat on the edge of the bed and punched in numbers. She turned slightly to face away from him. “Dad, it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that I’m waiting for a tow. I slid into a ditch last night and had to stay at the motel.”
Brody wasn’t trying to listen in, but although he couldn’t make out her father’s specific words, he certainly heard the loud, rough tone.
“Yeah, Dad, I know it was stupid of me to wind up in a ditch and I’m sorry you had to make your own dinner last night. I’ll make it all up to you when I get home. I’ll fix you a terrific breakfast.”
Apparently her father hung up on her. She dropped her phone back into the depths of her purse and then turned and gave Brody a sheepish smile. “He isn’t much of a morning person.”
Brody had a feeling George Wright wasn’t much of a noon or night person, either. From what little gossip he’d heard about George, the man was a drunk who had more enemies than he had friends.
“What are you planning to make for breakfast?” he asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Her thick-lashed, caramel-colored eyes took on a sparkle and her lips curved into a smile. “I make this great peach French toast casserole with pecans and lots of cream and spices.”
“Hmm, sounds good.”
“Want to come over for breakfast?” she asked eagerly. “You know, just as a friend.”
Brody cast his gaze back out the window. “I don’t think this morning would be a good time.”
“Well, of course it wouldn’t,” she replied agreeably. “I can be such a dunce sometimes.”
At that moment Brody’s phone rang. It was Larry telling him that he’d be at their cars within fifteen minutes. When the brief call ended they both abandoned their coffee cups for their coats and then stepped outside for the trek to their vehicles.
“Whew, it’s still cold out here,” Mandy said and pulled her coat collar up closer around her neck.
“Wait here,” Brody told her. “I’ll be right back.” Before they left here there was one thing he wanted to do. He approached Fred Ferguson, who cut the engine on the snowblower.
“You taking off?” he asked.
“We are,” Brody replied. “I just wanted to tell you that if I hear any gossip about Mandy and me spending the night together I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
“You know I’m not a gossip,” Fred blustered, his eyes wide behind his dark-rimmed glasses.
Brody knew no such thing. In fact, Fred loved to indulge himself in juicy gossip. “I’m just giving you a heads-up.” As he returned to Mandy, the snowblower roared back to life. The last thing he wanted was for the night to further stain Mandy’s reputation.
“Ready?” he asked Mandy when he reached her.
“Ready,” she replied.
The ground was still slippery and Mandy’s little boots were about as useful as a pig in a poker game. He took her by the arm and she leaned into him as they trudged forward.
When they finally reached her car, he released his hold on her. She peered up at him. “All’s well that ends well, right?”
“Right,” he agreed easily.
“Thank you, Brody.”
“For what?”
Those winsome eyes of hers gazed at him intently. “Thank you for being nice to me and for being such a gentleman.”
