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“Then I guess we take a walk together.” He reached out to take her arm but after seeing her pointed look, dropped his hand. “You got some hang-up about a man touching you?”
“I most certainly do not,” Margot retorted before realizing she’d played right into his hands. “I don’t know you. I don’t particularly like you. That’s why I don’t want you touching me.”
His gaze met hers. “Liar.”
“What are you talking about?” Margot sputtered.
“You want me to touch you,” he said as if speaking the gospel from the pulpit. “But you’re scared of what might happen once I do.”
“Oh, for the love of—” She reined in her emotions. “You are so incredibly arrogant. You think every woman is interested in that hot body of yours.”
A grin spread across his face, like a kid opening a present at Christmastime. “You think my body is hot?”
“Let’s get a few things straight. I’m not interested in touching you. I’m not interested in sleeping with you. I am interested in getting you out of my house.”
“My house,” he corrected. “And you are interested in sleeping with me. You just won’t admit it.”
“There’s nothing to admit.” She flung her hands up in the air, drawing Vivian’s watchful gaze as the dog lapped up crystal-clear water from the bubbling creek.
“Come on,” Brad teased. “This attraction between us is so strong it’s a wonder we haven’t both burst into flames.”
“Delude yourself all you want.” Margot kept her face expressionless. There was no way, no way, she was letting him know that she found him the teensiest bit attractive. “I have a compromise I’d like to propose.”
“No touching below the waist?”
“Shut up.” She fought to hide a smile. The guy never gave up. “I’m talking about the house.”
She inhaled deeply, that crisp scent of autumn in the air. It wouldn’t be long before the temperature would drop and the cool breeze would turn frigid. The cattle would need to be fed. She’d have to fire up the tractor and attach the blade so she could plow the lane once the snow came. With four-wheel drive, at least her truck would get around.
How had her dad managed these past few years, she wondered? Even before her mother passed, it wasn’t as if Giselle was the outdoorsy type. He had no sons to help, no family nearby and he’d told his only daughter to take a hike. Had there been a growing sense that the ranch was becoming too much for him to handle? Had he secretly considered the land a burden?
Certainly she’d seen a few signs that she’d chosen to ignore. Because every time she confronted him he got belligerent.
Her dad had always been proud of how he’d maintained the ranch. But, even before her mom died, Margot had noticed that some things were being neglected. Last year he hadn’t even gotten up the snow fence and the drifts had blocked the lane until he’d been able to get the tractor out and plow.
Once her mom had passed, it was as if she’d taken any drive he’d possessed with her. Of course, most of that lethargy could be due to the alcohol.
“We need to get back,” Brad said abruptly.
“We haven’t finished our talk.”
“If you’re not interested in making out, there’s nothing keeping us here.”
“Is everything about sex with you?”
He paused, considered. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Not sure how to respond to such a comment, Margot said nothing, merely returned to her horse and mounted. “Forget a compromise. Once we get back to the house, I want you to pack up your stuff and go back to the Shooting Star. Once my dad returns, we can sort out what he owes.”
“Good try.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He mounted the roan with an ease that spoke of long years in the saddle. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know how many times I have to say this, but this is my home now. Legally.”
“Oh, so you’re saying I have to leave?”
That would happen when hell froze over, she thought to herself.
“Absolutely not.” He gave her a little wink. “I want you to stay.”
“You do?”
“How else are we ever going to become, ah, intimately acquainted, if you’re living somewhere else?”
* * *
The invitation to accompany Brad to his parents’ house for dinner that evening surprised her. She was ready to say no when she realized that this might be an opportunity. As she’d had no luck in convincing Brad to move out, perhaps she could get his parents on her side and they could convince him.
Margot dressed carefully for the dinner though she knew she’d probably have been properly attired in jeans and a nice shirt. But this wasn’t neighbors getting together for a barbecue; this was a business meeting of sorts. With this fact in mind, she’d pulled out a pair of black pants and topped them with a green sweater. Instead of cowboy boots, she pulled on a pair of shiny heeled ones. She even took a little extra time with her makeup.
Though she was most happy in jeans, she had just enough of her girlie mother in her to enjoy dressing up occasionally.
Her fingers moved to the horseshoe necklace around her neck. It had been a gift from her mother when she was ten and had participated in her first big rodeo. Though many of the girls were older, she’d been excited to get second place.
Her father had been less than impressed. It was the first, but certainly not the last, time she’d heard his “second place is the first loser” speech.
Margot’s fingers tightened around the horseshoe. Her mother’s faith in her ability had never faltered and Margot was determined not to disappoint her now. She would find her father, bring him home and get the deed to the ranch back, one way or the other.
She gave Vivian a scrub on the top of her head. “You’ll have the whole house to yourself tonight, Vivi. Relax and enjoy.”
Suddenly cognizant of the time, Margot rushed out of the bedroom and slammed into Brad.
“Whoa, there, filly.” His strong hands steadied her.
She inhaled sharply and breathed in the intoxicating scent of his cologne. As her gaze took in his dark pants and gray shirt, she realized she wasn’t the only one who’d done a little dressing up. “We’re going to be late.”
The second the words slipped past her lips she wished she could pull them back. “We’re” made it sound too much like they were a couple, which they weren’t, not at all.
“Plenty of time,” Brad said easily, his appreciative gaze studying her from head to toe. “You look nice.”
He sniffed the air. “Smell good, too. Did you put on that flowery perfume for me? I definitely approve.”
“Why you—” For a second Margot was tempted to rush back in her room and wash off the scent she’d impulsively sprayed on after her shower. But that would only make her look like a gauche sixteen-year-old. And she hadn’t been that for an awfully long time. So instead she laughed and patted his cheek. “Oh, you poor deluded man.”
Margot wondered whether they should drive separately just in case his parents convinced him to turn over the house to her. Though the chance of that happening was a long shot, it could happen.
She felt him study her as she slipped past him and headed down the steps. He caught up with her at the door, reaching around her so quickly she had no choice but to let him open it for her.
“I have no idea what’s on the menu tonight,” he told her, then pinned her with those amazing green eyes. “Unless you’re talking about something other than—”
“Forget it.”
When they reached his truck, she paused, then heaved a resigned sigh and opened the door. Even knowing the man as little as she did, the odds that she could persuade him to stay at his parents’ home tonight were slim to none.
“Let’s get back to the point I was making. The menu.”
“No worries.” She settled into the leather seat, fastened the belt. “I’m not particular.”
“I wasn’t speaking about food.” Brad turned over the engine and cast a sideways glance in her direction. “You didn’t accept my invitation for dinner because you wanted to see my parents or because you wanted to spend time with me.”
“Give the guy a bubblegum cigar.”
“Seriously, something is going on in that devious mind of yours. I want to know what it is.”
Margot simply smiled and reached forward. “Mind if I change the station?”
Before he had a chance to respond she’d already changed it to a classic country station. As Merle started wailing about love gone wrong, she poised herself for Brad’s next volley.
Vivian ran along the truck barking her displeasure at being left behind. When Brad turned onto the gravel road in the direction of town, Vivian stopped running but continued to bark.
In the cab of the truck the subtle spicy scent of Brad’s cologne mingled with her perfume. A watchful waiting filled the air.
Instead of being disturbed by it, Margot felt a thrill of exhilaration. The same feeling she got before she entered the ring on Storm and started the race around the barrels.
“I’m on to you, Red,” he said after about a mile.
Now this was interesting. She lifted a brow. “Really?”
“My parents aren’t going to side with you,” he told her. “Trust me. If that’s why you came, you’ll be heading home tonight disappointed.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_4f90c4f2-a87e-5134-8add-1d75ee7c40dc)
The Crawford home on the Shooting Star property was beautiful, a two-story white clapboard on a double lot. As it was early October, the grass in the yard surrounding the house with its wraparound porch had already gone dormant. Someone, likely Brad’s mother, Laura, had put up an autumn display that included stalks of corn, colorful gourds and a huge pumpkin.
Though Margot couldn’t recall ever being inside the house, she remembered attending several outdoor barbecues when she was young.
Margot had always been envious of the Crawford family with their six kids. Brad’s youngest sister Natalie was three years older than Margot, so they’d run in different social circles. But she knew Natalie and liked her quite a bit.
“Will Natalie be here?” Margot asked as Brad pulled the truck to a stop behind a car she figured must belong to one of his parents.
“It’s Friday night,” Brad said as if that answered her question.
“Thanks for orienting me to the day of the week.” Margot shoved open the door to the truck, even as he was still rounding the front. “But that wasn’t my question.”
Brad shot her an easy smile. “She’s young, single and it’s Friday night. You connect the dots.”
“Well, I’m young and single and I’m having dinner with your folks. What does that say about me?”
He grinned. “That you’re holding on to the false belief that you can get me out of the house by luring my parents over to your side.”
“Oh, look,” Margot said, grateful for the distraction, for any distraction. “Your mother came out to greet us.”
“Great,” Brad muttered. When he’d asked if he could bring Margot, he’d made sure to clarify to his mother that Margot had just gotten into town. He hoped his parents would convince her that running a ranch was too much for a woman recovering from a head injury.
Sometime during the course of the evening, he would pull his matchmaking mother aside and make it clear he wasn’t interested in Margot Sullivan, other than as a casual bed-partner. Even though, to his way of thinking, that fact never belonged in any mother-son discussion.
“Margot.” Laura Crawford moved forward holding out both of her hands in welcome. “I’m so glad you could join us.”
Seeing Margot warm to her instantly, Brad had to admit his mother had a way. Laura was a pretty middle-aged woman with blond hair cut in a stylish bob, blue eyes and a friendly smile.
But Brad knew from personal experience the woman could be tough if the situation warranted it. You didn’t raise four boys and two daughters without a spine. The eyes in the back of her head helped immensely. Of her six children, only Natalie resembled her, both in coloring and in stature.
Tonight his mom wore khakis and a blue checked shirt. Though in her late fifties, she looked much too young to have grown children. When his dad had snagged her, he’d gotten himself a gem. Nearly forty years later, they were still happy together.
That lifelong love, devotion and trust had been what Brad had hoped to have in his marriage with Janie.
“Where’s Dad?” he asked as he followed his mother and Margot up the steps to the porch.
“Inside changing. He wanted to wear jeans and that old flannel shirt.” Laura smiled at her son. “I said that while that may be good enough for dinner with you, it’s not appropriate when we have guests.”
“Oh, Mrs. Crawford, jeans and a flannel shirt would have been fine.”
“Please call me Laura.” His mother patted Margot’s arm. “Believe me, it doesn’t hurt any of us to go outside our comfort zone every now and then.”
They’d barely stepped inside the front door when Todd Crawford came clomping down the stairs in navy pants and a sweater, grumbling with each step.
The disgruntled look on his face was replaced with a smile when he caught sight of Margot.
“Well, this is a pleasure,” Todd said. “It’s been years since you paid us a visit.”
“Hello, Mr. Crawford.”
Todd gave a laugh. “It’s Todd, honey. When I hear Mr. Crawford I always think of my granddad.”
Too bad, Brad thought, they didn’t have any bees hovering around. The honey couldn’t melt in his parents’ mouth. It bordered on sickening. But he wouldn’t complain.
He thought of how differently his parents—his mother especially—had reacted when his sister Nina had begun associating with Dallas Traub and his kids. Thankfully, now that Nina and Dallas were married, both of his parents had come around.
“What’s for dinner?” Brad asked. “I’m starving.”
“We’re having pot roast,” his mother said easily, but he caught her warning glance. “I thought it’d be nice if we had a glass of wine in the living room before we ate.”
Because he’d been warned and because, small though she might be, his mother was definitely a force to be reckoned with, Brad didn’t say he preferred beer to wine. And his hunger would be put on hold, until his mother deemed it time to eat.
He almost wished Natalie was here to run interference. But then he realized that would be playing with fire. Nat was likely to side with Margot and then his mother would join them, leaving him and his father outnumbered. At least this way, if it came to choosing sides and they went by gender, it would be a draw.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Laura asked Margot, already lifting a bottle they’d had breathing on a side table.
