Taken, Not Spurred, Page 5

  Today can only go up from there.

  She swung her legs to the floor, stood, and stretched. A light breeze from the window flitted across body parts she didn’t normally air out. Sarah looked down quickly, past the T-shirt that rested just below her hips, and remembered she’d removed her underwear last night.

  Probably not a good idea to stand in front of the window bare-assed. She scrunched down and made her way to the luggage she hadn’t bothered to open the night before. Rummaging quickly produced clean underwear and a fresh pair of jeans.

  A shower would be nice. What’s the rule regarding the number of showers you’re allowed when you break into a person’s house? I’m guessing it’s one.

  Then again, some rules are meant to be broken, especially if it’s for the common good.

  After a quick shower, she slid on the snug-fitting jeans, tennis shoes, and a simple pink blouse, then sought the room’s mirror. A dab of concealer, a quick sweep of her hair into a ponytail, and she felt brave enough to face the new day.

  She told herself she wasn’t disappointed when she discovered the only other person in the house was Melanie, washing dishes at the large sink in the kitchen. Sarah paused before entering and said, “Good morning.”

  “Tony skipped breakfast, and you’re up late. You’ll have to make yourself something if you’re hungry.” Dressed in worn cowboy boots, faded jeans, and an old gray T-shirt, Melanie looked as rough around the edges as she sounded.

  If there was one thing Sarah prided herself on, it was her ability to make friends. She liked people and, in return, most people liked her. She supposed she shouldn’t care how Melanie felt about her, since she was planning to leave after breakfast and it wasn’t likely they’d ever cross paths again. Still, there was something about Melanie that drew Sarah to her side.

  “Would you like help with the dishes?” Sarah asked.

  The housekeeper stopped and turned the water off. She gave Sarah what could only be described as an insulting, dismissive once-over. “You don’t need to be kissing up to me. I just work here.”

  But you wish things were different? I know how you feel.

  “My mother would call you essential support staff.”

  Melanie turned away and snapped, “There’s coffee by the stove.”

  Dismissed.

  Sarah poured herself a cup of black coffee and turned to rest her hip against the counter as she sipped it. Almost instantly she spit the tepid bitter liquid back into the cup. Whatever that is, it’s not coffee. If Melanie heard, she didn’t seem to care. “Thank you for making dinner last night.”

  “It’s my job,” Melanie said without turning around.

  “Well, it was nice,” Sarah said warmly, deciding to ride out the arctic chill from the other woman. “And it may be the only home-cooked meal I have in Texas before I drive home to Rhode Island today.”

  Just the thought of that long drive was enough to seriously dampen Sarah’s mood. She might as well start calling the bed-and-breakfasts she’d stayed at on the way down and hope they had rooms open for the return.

  Melanie looked at her over her shoulder. “You really leaving?”

  Sarah put the coffee cup down on the counter beside her and sighed. “That’s the way it looks.”

  After wiping her hands on a towel beside the sink, Melanie turned around and faced her. “I figured you’d be staying longer.”

  A flush of embarrassment warmed Sarah’s neck and cheeks. Not when I’m taken in like a dog in a storm. She smiled with self-deprecating humor. Tony’s probably in town stapling my picture on telephone poles with the caption: Found—stray woman. Please call to claim.

  “He doesn’t usually bring women here,” Melanie said.

  Sarah let out a short rueful laugh. “I sort of brought myself. He was just too nice to throw me out.”

  Melanie raised both eyebrows as she said, “Really? ‘Nice’ isn’t how most people describe Tony.” Then she frowned. “I guess it’s not a surprise he’d make an exception for someone like you.”

  Oh boy. I’m not awake enough for this. Tired, Sarah rubbed a hand over her forehead and joked, “If you’re looking for a fight, you should make better coffee. I don’t function until after my second cup.”

  Melanie folded her arms across her chest and studied her for a long moment before saying, “My coffee is fine. That’s yesterday’s pot.”

  And round one goes to the angry housekeeper.

  If this is Southern charm, give me a Northern cold shoulder any day.

  “I’m leaving today, so there’s no need to try to poison me.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Sarah wasn’t sure if Melanie was referring to her leaving or the desire to poison her, but she wasn’t going to ask. “Okay, well, I probably won’t see you before I leave, so thanks again for dinner.”

  Melanie turned away without saying another word and returned to washing the dishes.

  Sarah inched her way out of the kitchen.

  My novel won’t have a housekeeper.

  She stepped onto the porch, and the heat of the day met her with a slap.

  And it won’t be ten thousand degrees by nine in the morning.

  But it will have him. Freshly shaven, dressed in a light-blue plaid shirt and jeans that fit him snugly in all the right places, Tony walked up the driveway to the bottom of the porch steps. For a split second he looked like he might smile, but then he frowned instead as he looked her over.

  Well, a happier version of him, anyway.

  What? Was he hoping I had my luggage with me?

  “Good morning,” she said awkwardly, hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans, attempting some Southern casualness.

  “Morning,” he said with a neutral nod of his head.

  If I threw myself at him, would he catch me or let me face-plant in the dirt? Tough call. “I’m sorry I slept in. I must have been exhausted from the trip.”

  “Melanie make you breakfast?”

  “I wasn’t very hungry,” Sarah hedged. She didn’t need to stir up trouble for a housekeeper whose life, it seemed, had already been plenty harsh. “I thought I’d come out and check on Scooter, then make some calls. Do you mind if I use your phone again?”

  He looked back at her wordlessly, and Sarah amused herself with fanciful thoughts. At which point can I ask him to pose for a photo? You know, for research purposes only. Not to pin next to my bed like some lovelorn teenager.

  “You still planning on staying in Texas?”

  His question brought back the sting of reality, and Sarah shook her head sadly. “I wish. Lucy implied this isn’t a good time to visit after all. Honestly, I’d rather turn around and go home than stay where I’m not wanted.”

  Tony narrowed his eyes and said, “Long drive back.”

  “No kidding.” Deciding to make the best of it, Sarah shrugged and said, “It won’t be that bad if I can get rooms in the places I stayed at on the way down. At least it won’t be a straight drive home.”

  “You must be disappointed.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  He lifted and settled his hat on his head, pondering something as he did. “Your horse could use a rest before traveling again.”

  Sarah shook her head. Did I hear that right? Her pulse sped up. “What are you suggesting?”

  “No reason why you can’t stay another night while you figure it out.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Just don’t do anything that would get a person asked to leave.”

  I have no idea what that means, but not heading home right away is tempting. Okay, quick review of pros and cons. Con: I don’t know this man, and he might expect me to pay for room and board with sexual favors. Sarah inhaled a shaky breath, closed her eyes, and admitted to herself: That particular circumstance could also qualify
as a pro. She opened her eyes again and found Tony glaring at her. Much more likely con: I make a complete idiot out of myself over a man who is simply inviting me to stay here because he feels bad for me. On the other hand, one pro that cannot be denied is that I won’t have to end this adventure before it has a chance to even begin. I won’t have to go home and explain to my parents and my brother that they were right and that the trip was a total waste of time. I could stay right here and at least outline the story that is coming to life in my head.

  Con: Melanie.

  “It won’t be an issue for anyone?” Sarah asked.

  “I said it wouldn’t.” And that’s all that matters, his tone implied.

  Straightening her shoulders, Sarah gave herself a pep talk. I’m not going to let a grumpy housekeeper ruin the fact that I’m in freakin’ Texas on a horse ranch with a gorgeous man who is asking me to stay. “Okay, I’ll do you—I mean . . . it. I mean, I’ll do it and stay here with you. On the ranch. In the spare room. Like last night.” A flush of embarrassment heated her cheeks.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly. He’s laughing at me again.

  Hands on her hips, Sarah said, “It’s not nice to laugh at people.”

  His expression darkened and his tone held both a warning and a tinge of regret. “I’m not a nice man.”

  She stepped off the porch to stand in front of him. He was a good foot or so taller than she was, so she had to tip her head back a bit to see his face. Standing so close, she searched his face and was moved by a pain she sensed within him. In those freakin’ save-me sad eyes.

  Like hurt animals, injured people could be dangerous. She’d seen her parents’ marriage take a dark turn after the death of her youngest brother. Something that should have brought people together—loss—had turned those in her happy family temporarily against each other in a way they had never fully healed from. There had been a time when she and others in her family had been close, but that was a different life, when they were all different people.

  Something awful had happened to the man who stood before her. She’d bet her life on it. And whatever it was, he hadn’t healed from it, either. Beyond any attraction she joked about in her mind, this connection to him touched her heart, overshadowing any self-consciousness she felt or second thoughts she had about her decision.

  Sarah reached out, took Tony’s hand in hers, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She smiled up at him sympathetically and said, “I don’t believe that.”

  He looked down at their hands and met her eyes with that guarded expression she was getting accustomed to. Just when she thought he was about to pull away, his hand shifted and his fingers laced with hers.

  They stood there, saying nothing, the intensity of their connection building until everything around them disappeared.

  As much as you want to, don’t trust her.

  No one is that fucking sweet, that innocent. Just because her hand is as soft as velvet doesn’t mean she’s incapable of deception. A woman could rehearse those wide-eyed expressions. Which scenario is more likely? That a beautiful, loving woman got lost and ended up in my shower purely by accident and then conveniently had a reason to stay? Or that she planned this entire scenario and is either a reporter or on the payroll of one?

  Optimism is best reserved for fools.

  So why hold her hand? Why invite her to stay another day? He couldn’t justify either action any more than he could stop his heart from thudding wildly in his chest when she touched him. He wished it were a simple itch that a night of sex would cure, but in his almost thirty years he’d never felt anything close to this.

  “You probably want to check on your horse,” he said, needing to break free of whatever web of fascination she was spinning around him.

  Her hand shifted as if she was preparing to pull away. His hold on hers tightened instinctively and she smiled. Damn. I don’t know if I care if she’s a liar. A night with her would be worth whatever she finds here to write about.

  Idiot.

  He let go of her hand with determination. It did matter. He’d protected his privacy for far too long to piss it away because some damn—though undeniably beautiful—woman thought she could play him. “Well, you know where he is. David will show you around the barn if you need anything. His office is in the main aisle, to the left.”

  The momentary confusion on her face was almost comically kissable. Her chin lifted in defiance and she said, “Thank you.” But in a tone that didn’t sound at all grateful.

  A stronger man wouldn’t have stood and enjoyed watching her cute, jean-clad ass strut angrily down the driveway to the barn. Tony barely blinked.

  “A woman like that would never be happy here,” Melanie said from behind the screen door of the porch.

  I know.

  “Is she leaving today?” she asked.

  Tony shook his head but didn’t turn away from watching Sarah. She stopped at the entrance, looked over her shoulder at him briefly, then disappeared into the barn.

  “Don’t suppose you’d welcome my opinion?”

  With a brief shake of his head, Tony turned, strode up the steps, stepped around Melanie, who was holding the door open for him, and headed up the main staircase. It was time he found out what his little blonde visitor was hiding.

  Chapter Five

  Unlike the night before, the barn was alive with activity the second night. Two young men who were mucking stalls stopped and rested their picks for a moment when they saw Sarah. Another man paused from brushing down a horse in the aisle behind them. They all appeared to be in their late teens or early twenties. Hard to tell much more at the distance she was from them, but Sarah smiled and waved. Just because she wanted to strangle their boss didn’t mean she couldn’t be friendly.

  None returned her wave, and all quickly returned to their work.

  “Don’t be offended,” a deep male voice said behind Sarah. “They don’t want to do anything that would risk their jobs here.”

  Sarah turned and her eyes widened as she looked over the man attached to the sultry voice. Is every man in Texas hot? The blond-haired beefcake took off his hat and held out a hand for her to shake. She had thought that suits were sexy, but jeans and plaid were blowing that theory away. His blue eyes smiled down at her. Sarah appreciated his beauty as one would appreciate a painting or a sculpture, but her heart didn’t race when his hand closed around hers. She felt grateful for his warm welcome, but nothing more.

  I guess I go for the broody type.

  “You’d fire them for saying hello?”

  “I wouldn’t,” he said, but his tone implied that others might. “David Harmon, ranch manager.” He released her hand and replaced his hat on his head.

  “I guessed as much. Sarah Dery. Tony told me your office was in here.” Sarah stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I thought I’d come out and see my horse.”

  David walked with her through the barn to the shelter and paddock where Scooter was. “He settled right in. Most do.” He rested a forearm on the top of one wooden rail and tipped his hat back. “You planning a long visit?”

  Who’s planning any part of this? I’m flying by the seat of my pants, hoping none of you turn out to be serial killers. Sarah looked over her shoulder at the entrance to see if Tony had followed her. Of course, he hadn’t. “Not sure yet.”

  David followed her gaze before meeting her eyes and said, “He’s not as bad as people say.”

  Okay, that’s somewhat reassuring and a bit cryptic. I wish I’d brought my notebook with me. I could use that line.

  “What do they say?”

  David looked surprised. “You don’t know?”

  Sarah shrugged. “Should I?”

  He scratched his square chin as he considered her question. “I doubt it would help.”

  Not only do Texans speak slowly, they
also apparently talk in code.

  They both turned their attention to the horse before them. Sarah decided to find her answers through less direct questions. “David, how long have you worked here?”

  “Nearly five years.”

  “That’s a long time. You must know Tony pretty well.”

  “I understand him.”

  That’s more than I can say, so here goes. “He said I could stay until I cement my plans for my drive back to Rhode Island. Do you think I should?”

  David didn’t answer at first. Then he said quietly, “Sometimes the only way you can determine a good choice from a bad one is by how much you like the person you see in the mirror the next day.”

  Not really sure that helps.

  She let his words echo through her again. Do I like who I am? Not my nose. Not my expensive highlights. Me. Just me.

  Like might be too strong of a word.

  I thought I would be more.

  Matter more.

  Which led to a life-guiding question.

  Who do I want to see in the mirror tomorrow?

  Someone who made her way no matter the obstacles, here or somewhere else in Texas. Success requires perseverance. Mountain climbers don’t let a little rain stop them. Men went to the moon with less technology than I have in my phone.

  I can do this.

  I can find my story.

  Tony stood next to the small nightstand where Sarah had left her spiral notebook. Would she have left it out if she had something to hide? Typically, he would never consider reading the private writings of anyone—mostly because doing so required a certain amount of interest on his part, which he hadn’t felt about anything in a long time.

  But he believed that notebook held the answers he needed.

  Is Sarah taking notes on how I run the ranch? Is she working for a news rag? Why is she here?

  He flipped the purple cover open and his jaw went slack with surprise as he read the first page.

  Day One

  This is what life is about: seeing new places, meeting new people, grabbing life by the . . . and squeezing until it coughs up a story worth telling.