License to Love: Holiday Box Set (Contemporary Romance) Page 5

  “Hey, there.” She could feel each beat of her heart. “Don’t kick me, too, okay?”

  She didn’t get behind him. From the railing, she leaned and draped the blanket around him.

  His noises sounded sad. She stepped back and reached out with one hand. What had happened today?

  When he nuzzled her hand, she got the impression he knew who she was. Her heart grew heavy, the same way it had when she’d first slept in Ben’s old house.

  “I’m Missy,” she said, surprised that she didn’t feel strange for talking to a horse. “You miss him a lot, don’t you? I wish I knew him more.”

  Dancer snorted. The truck rumbled softly down the road and grew louder. She patted him goodbye and went to the entrance to watch Dale pull up and help Brent out. She waited until Dale left before walking over.

  She pulled her coat closer and rubbed her nose. If she wanted to stay, she’d have to get used to the weather at some point.

  At Brent’s door, she knocked and went in. He couldn’t get up and come to the door, after all. Dale had left the hallway light on, and it shone into Brent’s room.

  She sucked in a breath when she saw him with his eyes closed in sleep. He’d rolled his head a little to one side, and the light fell on his face. She hadn’t noticed his thick eyelashes before, or how full and pouty his mouth looked. Add that to his movie-star cleft chin, and he had one handsome face.

  What would it feel like to cradle his face in her hand? He didn’t seem to have five o’clock shadow, but the light wasn’t bright enough to tell.

  His blanket was pulled up to mid chest, leaving his bare shoulders exposed. They were as nice as she’d suspected. She’d like to run her hand down his neck to his shoulder and feel his muscles. His hands lay on his stomach as it rose and fell.

  She knew she shouldn’t, but she started toward his bed. He looked unguarded, defenseless. Sweet and sexy.

  Was she high on fresh country air? Something had taken a hold of her since she came here. It couldn’t be this man.

  The floor creaked when she reached his bed. His eyes opened and blinked at her. “Missy?”

  She blinked back for a second. “Thought I’d check on you.” Blushing, she hoped he wouldn’t ask why she’d snuck into his bedroom. “How bad is it?”

  His injury didn’t hurt his appeal. She put her hands in her pockets, shifted her weight. Hmm, interesting floor, isn’t it?

  “I’m on bed rest for a month.” His voice was quiet and low. “I think you’re going to be busy.”

  At that comment, she looked back to his face. There wasn’t the normal lift in his voice or gleam in his eyes to belie his seriousness.

  She looked him over for a long minute. “A month? I don’t believe a horse could put you in bed that long.”

  He gave it up and smiled. “A week maybe. Just some bruised ribs.”

  “That’s a relief.” She sat down on the edge, thought about jumping up, but tried to act like she didn’t feel awkward sitting there.

  “Is it?” he asked, his hand sliding down and brushing hers.

  “You brute!” She considered the best way to get her hands around his neck, but she settled for a soft nudge to his chest. She just couldn’t punch a man while he was down. “You’ve thought the worst of me since I arrived.”

  “And you of me, haven’t you?”

  She crossed her arms, glancing off to the side in a big show. A guitar case leaned against the wall in the shadows.

  “You play guitar?” That seemed fitting for a cowboy but the case was too small for a guitar. “What is it, a banjo?”

  “A violin, you snob.” He wrapped an arm across himself when he laughed. Knowing he was in pain ruined her show of indignation.

  “You know, you’re beautiful when you laugh . . . or get shy . . . or try to ride a horse and find yourself out of control.” His fingers grazed the back of her hand again. Suddenly she had no trouble calming down.

  “Brent, don’t . . .” She suspected he was teasing again, but she didn’t want him to tease her along those lines. “Listen, if you’re after someone to take care of you, I’ll help. You don’t have to flatter me with whatever that was.”

  He pulled his hand away, with a smile on his face that baffled her. He looked both sad and intrigued, like she’d just given him a difficult problem to solve. Well, she wasn’t his algebra homework.

  “Can you eat with that injury?” she asked. “I made you soup.”

  “Maybe a little.” He watched her too closely and she needed to get out of there. So she left for the soup she’d brought him.

  When she brought it back, he asked, “Are you going to feed me?”

  That sincere voice and innocent eyes almost had her. “I don’t think so.”

  She did help him up and adjusted his pillows for him. He still watched her, and those intense eyes of his were getting to her. The mood struck her then: the dim lighting, his shirtless body, his bedroom.

  “I should let you rest.” She stepped back.

  “I’ll be getting plenty of rest this week. Stay.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Goodnight.” She managed not to run on her way out.

  * * * *

  She’d show him! That was her first thought when her eyes opened in the morning. Before the sun rose, she showered, ate breakfast, and bundled up in a sweater and raincoat.

  Outside, a soft, soaking rain fell. Brent would classify it as a drizzle, but nothing would stop her from taking care of things today and the next few days while he recovered.

  She hurried to meet Dale and Ivan by the stables. “So what’s on for today?” She didn’t react to their unbelieving looks.

  They spent the morning feeding and caring for horses and moving some out to different pastures. She had enough time to ride Speckle again before noon, when she wanted to take lunch to Brent. On the walk back to her house, her body let her know she’d need some time to get used to the hard work and the saddle. But it was worth it, wasn’t it? The gait of the horse, the breeze blowing in her hair, and the sense of freedom pulled her in.

  She’d stolen Brent’s crock pot the day before, laughing all the way home that he had one. Now it sat with a hot lunch simmering in it.

  It didn’t smell too bad, she decided on the walk to his house. She raised her hand to knock when she saw him through the window in his recliner. He was kicked back in front of the TV with a blanket lying on his legs. His ribs were wrapped, she guessed for support.

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her eyes off his chest, covered in light hair. Nice pecs. Well toned arms, too.

  She glanced at his face and noted, happily, he was eyeing his crock-pot and not her. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how she appreciated his body.

  Once inside, she said, “Yeah, I took it so I could cook you lunch.”

  “Smells great, is it poisoned?” He was joking this time, and she was glad to see the twinkle back in his eye. Then there was another type of gleam as he took her in. His eyes met hers and she couldn’t ignore the change in them.

  She turned away from his gaze and went in the kitchen to get a bowl. “Do you like chicken and rice?” She spoke just to fill the silence and break the mood.

  “Sounds terrific, and I don’t know a man who turns down food.” His words weren’t laced with double meaning, but his tone sounded too heavy for the conversation.

  Medication. Of course, he was taking something for the pain. Or maybe he’d gotten the idea he could scare her off this way. No matter what he was thinking, he’d changed from dislike to flirtatious so quickly that it couldn’t be anything but show.

  “Here you go.” She brought him a tray, but managed to avoid eye contact as she placed everything for him. When she stood, she glanced at him, and he didn’t look happy about the emotions he saw on her face.

  “You won’t join me?” he asked, but he sounded like he already knew the answer.

  “There’s still a lot of work to do.” The excuse
slipped right out. “I mean, there always is, even when you can help. You know that.”

  He watched her go, his eyes labeling her a wimp. She had work to do, she told herself again.

  Chapter Four

  Two days later, Missy stood on Brent’s porch, a bag full of sandwiches in hand, preparing herself to see him. They’d all listened to him grumble about his restrictions. Today wouldn’t be any different.

  The door opened, ending any buffer she’d hoped for. “Hey there.” He’d pulled on a light blue shirt, but it wasn’t buttoned.

  She finally understood the pull of a man in an open shirt. He leaned into the doorframe while she stood there, trying to remember why she’d come. When she looked back at his face, he was grinning at her.

  “I brought you sandwiches.” She held up the bag.

  “I can make my own food now, you know. I think you just like to see me . . . half naked.”

  “No.” She shrugged. “Just being neighborly.” Since coming to the ranch, she hadn’t been able to resist all the little phrases they used. Nodding toward the inside, he swung open the door and led the way into the kitchen.

  “So stay and eat with me. To be neighborly.” He pulled out two chairs instead of waiting for an answer.

  She pulled sandwiches out and said, “I took back the rental this morning.”

  “About time.”

  “I would have kept it, but you keep thinking I’m going to run off.”

  “Women tend to.” He took a hefty bite of his lunch and raised an eyebrow at her.

  Women tend to? Not all women, she wanted to argue, but apparently some woman had run off on him.

  She didn’t want to fight with him today, plus she had a mouth full of food. A radio on the counter played country music. He tapped his foot while staring out the window, lost in the music.

  She wanted his shirt buttoned but could only imagine the teasing she’d endure if she asked him. Instead she pretended not to notice his well-defined muscles. Besides, she could stare at his blue eyes or his lips while he chewed.

  “So, Brent, do you actually cook in your crock pot?” She tried her best to ask with a straight face.

  “I don’t have it just to look at.”

  Meeting his gaze, she shook her head at him in amusement. Somehow the man could chew and grin, and look sexy all at the same time. He let the opportunity to tease her pass, except for the cocky grin.

  “I talked to Dale about doing some light work.” He changed the subject. “Seems the three of you are pretty determined to keep me out of things.”

  “For your own good,” she reminded. He had a different set to his face than she was used to seeing. Anger? An unpleasant flutter churned her stomach. Why would she care if he were mad at her?

  “I see how it is,” Brent said.

  His words repeated in her head, but in another man’s voice. Brent’s joking tone changed into ice-cold rage. She jumped up, surprised at the vivid memory and the intense fear that came with it. For a terrifying second, she was in her old office.

  “Missy?” Brent materialized in front of her, his voice soft and soothing. “What did I say?”

  His eyes held confusion as he reached out and gently took her arm. She pulled free and stepped back.

  “Sorry. I need to go.” She grabbed her jacket and hurried out. There were reasons why she couldn’t trust a man. She wouldn’t hide from every male on the planet, but that didn’t mean she should let her guard down, either.

  Shaking the memory out of her head, she picked up her pace and headed toward the stables though she didn’t have a plan.

  When she walked by the pasture, Dancer trotted up to the fence and whinnied at her.

  “Well, hey.” She walked over, holding her hand out and talking to him. His size had scared her before, but he smelled her hand in a friendly manner that relaxed her. “I know I’m not Ben, but I’d like to be friends.”

  As if agreeing, Dancer bobbed his head before turning and putting on a show for her. Running and bucking, he whipped around the pasture in circles. Then he slowed his pace and returned to the fence.

  “I see how you earned your name.” He was a thing of beauty, she couldn’t deny that, but she was afraid of trusting him enough to ride him. Sometime, though, someone needed to. And it didn’t seem like Brent planned on it.

  * * * *

  “Hey, Missy!”

  She jumped a foot off the ground at Brent’s yell. He stood on his porch, waving at her.

  What could he want? Sore from working so hard, she didn’t think she could go head to head with him. He yelled again. With a sigh, she started up his walk and then the porch.

  “Looking tired, city girl. How about a good home-cooked meal?”

  Yeah, he’d make a nice meal, for the eyes anyway. She’d seen him in shirts and jeans, but now he wore a green T-shirt, nice and snug to show off those muscles, and sweats. They hung low on his hips and looked just too easy to pull off.

  “I meant actual food, sweetie.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the house. “But I can change my plans.”

  Did he just call her sweetie? Looking up, she saw his lips lifted more on one side, completing his come-hither look.

  Pour it on, cowboy. “I’m too hungry to think like that.”

  Giving her a sorrowful shake of his head, he reached over and opened the front door for her to go inside. Warm air swelled out, carrying the smell of bread. She had to stop inside and breathe it in. Right behind her, he shut the door before he laughed at the incredulous look she gave him.

  “Come sit down, it’s ready.”

  She washed her hands instead, and could only hope she didn’t look like she’d spent the day working her butt off. Too bad she had. Maybe the smell of sweat turned him on.

  “Hope you like steak,” he said.

  “Sure.” No, she didn’t, and she hadn’t eaten it in years.

  “I can tell you don’t, but you haven’t tried mine yet.” He set a plate in front of her. Steak, mashed potatoes, and a vegetable mix. He brought over a loaf of quick bread and cut a slice for both of them.

  Feeling like a jerk for teasing him before, she said, “Brent, this is really nice.”

  He poured wine in their glasses and sat down, his eyes gleaming. “Try the steak.”

  She cut a piece and planned to lie if it wasn’t the best steak she ever had. But the flavor hit her and her eyes went wide.

  His sexy grin flashed. “Told you.”

  She knew she looked sheepish, but didn’t care. She savored several bites before trying the potatoes.

  Brent buttered a piece of bread. “Try this, then you’ll know you owe me.”

  The steak blew her away, but the bread did her in. “There’s no way you made this.”

  “Why not?” He buttered another piece for himself. This guy could do anything and look sexy. While they ate, she tried to keep from staring at his mouth, his hands. Her only consolation was he looked at her as much as she eyed him. Course, he’d been doing that since they met.

  He finished off his dinner and asked, “So what do you really think of working here?”

  She paused with her hand halfway to her mouth with another bite of bread. “Oh, so you’re doing this to get some info out of me?”

  “Just being neighborly is all.” He didn’t let his smile fade. She drank the last of her wine before she answered.

  “I’m sore all over,” she said. Instantly she wanted to slap herself for being so honest, and saying something like that to him.

  “I can help with that.”

  I bet you could. She looked down at his hands, so nice and big. And strong. He stood, making her nervous, and moved behind her chair, even while she shook her head in horror. She could count the few times they’d touched so far, and each time filled her body in agony. Or paradise. She couldn’t tell.

  “Brent . . .”

  “Relax.” His hands slid around her arms, holding her the way he had the day he taught her to ride. She held h
er breath, held herself still.

  She bit into her lip and closed her eyes. Don’t moan! His hands moved up to her shoulders, applying light pressure, kneading. Waves of pure pleasure coursed through her, relaxing her body from her shoulders down. Her sore muscles melted along with her willpower. She gave herself up to enjoying it. He worked his way in from her shoulders to the base of her neck and gradually increased the pressure. Unable to fight, she leaned her head forward.

  “You’re . . . good at this.”

  His thumbs ran up her neck and down to her back again. She’d been right about his big hands. They could do magic. It’d been so long since someone had touched her like this, taking care of her.

  His warm hands moved under the collar of her shirt. Heat spiked up in her, taking away her willpower. She gave in, surrendered, and whimpered.

  Oh, no!

  “That good, huh?”

  His voice flowed over her like honey. She could cry. Her mind wouldn’t work except to think, don’t ever stop.

  He rubbed and kneaded until her head fell back. His hands were affecting other parts of her body, places where he wasn’t actually touching. What if he could tell?

  As if he sensed he was taking her too far, he squeezed her neck once more, then she heard him sit in the chair next to her.

  She was sure she wouldn’t be able to look at him, but when she opened her eyes, he looked soft, tender. Now, more than ever, she wanted his hands on the rest of her.

  If her voice worked, she’d thank him, but she couldn’t do anything but stare at him. Finally, she said, “I should be getting home and going to bed.”

  “Do you think you can manage to walk home?” He stood and ran the back of his hand softly down her face. “Or I could carry you.”

  She stood and shook her head. “You might hurt your ribs all over again.”

  He followed her to the door, where she spun around. Her mind had cleared. “The mess. I should help you clean.”

  He just shook his head. “I’ll walk you home. You look tired.”